Of Ice And Kin
by NeverFall1ng
Summary: "Monsters do not have a right to life. They must earn it." Loki's position amongst the Asgardian refugees is precarious, but it's getting better. That is, until two Frost Giants come aboard. Now all eyes are on the Traitor Prince and Loki wants nothing more than to distance himself from the monsters in the hold. If only the youngest monster would mind its own business.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N_

This is a sequel to "Peeling Back Pale Masks" and "Frost and Save Face." You don't have to read those first but it wouldn't hurt. ;P

I also feel I should warn you, there's a lot of not-so-nice things said and done throughout this story. No one in this is 100% a saint, least of all Loki. So, warnings for racism and intersexphobia apply.

* * *

 _Five months..._

Loki slouched at the plexiglass table, head on his fist, staring down the grimy wall opposite. The incessant drone of voices lulled him into a state of meditative irritation.

"Loki!"

"What?" He didn't look at Thor. He was tired of looking at Thor. He was tired of listening to Thor. When would the oaf stop talking?

"Pay attention!"

"I am paying attention."

"Then what did I just say?" Thor stood at the head of the council room, hands braced against the table and framed by the arched windows behind. The overheads drizzled him in an impersonal blue glow, washing out his usual gold and red.

"Pay attention," Loki drawled.

Thor growled, Valkyrie snorted, and Heimdall said nothing as he stood by the windows, gazing at the stars beyond.

"Loki!"

"Oh!" Korg cut in, interrupting Thor's rising anger. "I get it! Because that _is_ what you just said. Very clever!"

"Thank you," Loki drawled.

 _Five months._

Five ruddy months adrift in Yggdrasil's branches and seven more before they would reach Midgard. They had cut to one third rations two months ago, half rations three weeks ago. Each time Thor had announced the bad news, the Asgardian populace had born it without complaint, jaws set and heads held high. Their actions betrayed their stoicism, however, with the number of violent altercations rising with their hunger. And the less said of the Sakaarans the better. If things continued as they were, he suspected things might turn deadly.

At least then they'd have fewer mouths to feed…

"Look," Valkyrie said, leaning back in her chair. "We can plan as much as we want. Fact is, as soon as we dock all of our planning's going to be shit."

"You don't know that," Thor argued. "If we can just-"

"I do know that," she said, "because Vertex is an unlicensed station filled with the dickheads all the other slum stations kicked out."

"Which is precisely why we need a plan!" Thor pounded his fist on the table, the impact bouncing his stylus to the floor.

"Oh, I'll get that," the Kronon said, fumbling for the lost instrument. Thor ignored him.

"Vertex is our last hope," Thor continued. "If they, too, are uncaring to our plight, then we will have nothing. We haven't enough fuel to reach the next port and certainly not enough supplies. If we fail now," Thor paused, drumming up the drama for his next words. "Asgard will die."

Loki rolled his eyes with a sigh.

"Damnit, Loki! This is serious!"

"Yes, you've mentioned."

"Well," Valkyrie spoke over the rising hum of Thor's anger, the static beginning to stand his hair on end. "I can tell you right now they won't be happy to see us. These aren't the sort who're keen on kings and rule. In fact, I'd describe them as fans of treason and regicide."

"Oh," Korg hummed. He'd given up on retrieving the stylus. "Might not be a good idea to send Thor down, then, yeah? Him being King and all?"

Thor scrubbed his hands over his face, forgetting his new eyepatch. Heimdall spoke up as Thor fumbled to replace his eyewear.

"The king should remain on board. I look upon the station now. There are no Æsir within its halls and many races who view Asgard unfavorably. King Thor will be recognized and he will be met with hostility."

Thor sighed. "So what do you suggest?"

"Do not send any Às crew members to bargain at port. We must send a representative of another race."

Everyone's eyes flicked to Korg, sitting hunched in a chair too small for his notable size.

"Oh, me?" He placed a hand on his chest. "I'd be honored."

"No." Loki finally sat up, called to action in the face of such stupidity. "If we send the Kronan on our behalf he'll trade all of our worldly goods for a bag of beans."

"Well," Korg said, "I don't think one bag'll be enough for everyone, but you're the boss!"

Loki swept his hand towards the rock creature, mouth a thin line. _'See?'_

"Shoot." Valkyrie leant back still further in her seat, plunking her boots on the table. "If only we had another big, blue lout famed for his negotiation skills and with a history of dealing with the scourge of the realms…"

Korg frowned at the table. "Yeah, that would be nice."

Thor and Valkyrie were now staring at Loki and he didn't care for it. Loki turned a withering glare on the warrior woman. They'd been training together for near a month, exploring his Jötunn abilities. That did not mean he would allow her to discuss his other form in polite company.

Thor, for once sensing the need for diplomacy, hedged, "perhaps you could cast an illusion? Take on the guise of a Vanr?"

Heimdall spoke up, "the Vanir would be unwelcome as well."

"Then… perhaps an elf-?"

"Oh, shut up!" Loki snapped. "I'll get your ruddy supplies."

Thor sighed again, this time in relief. "Thank you, Brother."

"You can thank me with double rations. When do we arrive?"

"Three hours," Heimdall said, eyes still trained on the stars.

"Great," Loki drawled.

"Oh, fantastic! I'll pack a picnic," Korg said, grinning brightly. "I know a lovely recipe for tarts. Course, I'll have to improvise, us not having any brakenstone or, well, much of anything really."

"You're not coming," Loki snapped.

"Well, of course I'm coming! Miek, too. You heard what Ms. Valkyrie said, that place is dangerous. Can't have you going down there all by yourself. What if something happened? If someone bopped you on the head or the like?" He gasped, "what if you got kidnapped? I'd never forgive meself if you didn't come back."

Loki's expression grew sour, then more so as he caught Thor trying to hide a creeping grin.

"I'm sure I'll be fine."

"Yup!" Korg said. "Because you'll have me an Miek at your side! Always there, stuck like burrs!"

"Yes," Thor choked out, his cheeks red and voice tight. "That sounds like an excellent plan, Korg! I'm sure you'll do a wondrous job keeping my little brother safe."

Now Valkyrie was snorting, too, and Loki swore even Heimdall was fighting back a smirk.

"Fantastic!" Korg said, clapping his hands. He rose from the table, his chair giving a sad groan as he stood. "I'll go get Miek. See you in three, Mr. Loki!"

"It's Prince Loki you-" Loki shouted after the him, but the Kronan was already gone. He continued under his breath, "you igneous idiot."

* * *

"You've got the trade list?"

"Yes, Thor."

"And the supply list?"

"I'm not an idiot."

"Yes, of course, I'm just-" Thor heaved a great sigh, his shoulders slumping. "There is so much that could go wrong."

Loki took pity on the young king. Grasping Thor's arm in one hand, his cheek in the other, Loki caught his brother's gaze with his own. "It will be fine, Thor. There's no one better in all the realms to bargain on your behalf."

Thor let out a tight laugh, nodding. "True." His expression turned serious. "But no gambling!"

"So quick to judge!" Loki laughed, stepping back. "I could get us everything we need for free-"

"No," Thor poked Loki in the chest, "gambling."

"As you wish," Loki said, hands raised.

Around them, Æsir and Sakaaran crew members worked to prepare for trade. Anything nonessential and with some worth had been moved into the loading bay, ready to be bartered for food, water, and fuel. They waited only for the go-ahead from Vertex to dock.

"All set, Mr. Loki, Mr. King!" Korg trotted into the loading bay, Valkyrie at his side, Miek bouncing on his back. They hadn't the equipment to fix the Sakaaran's prosthetics, so Korg had rigged up a harness for the sluggy creature. It squeaked joyfully, knives flashing in the bay's flickering light.

"Ah, my friends! You're just in time!" Thor said, enthusiastically.

"Yippie," Loki said, less enthusiastically.

"Had to make sure we had everything for the trip," Korg said, rummaging through a large bag slung from one shoulder. "Money. Extra shopping bags. Water bottles. Snacks. Booties, in case Miek gets cold." Miek thrilled at this, waving its many legs. "Mittens, in case you get cold." Korg held up what appeared to be hand-knitted, yellow gloves. "And a map of Vanaheim, because you never know."

"That's…" Thor searched for something to say. "Good. Very good. I'm glad you are planning ahead."

Korg beamed.

"Heimdall sends word from the bridge," Valkyrie said, stepping forward. "We're cleared to dock." She turned to eye Loki, still in his Às form. "Where's your costume?"

"I'll change when the rabble clears out," he said, jerking his chin towards the deckhands.

"Aww, you shy?" Valkyrie cooed, poking him in the ribs. "You shy? Are you?"

"Quit it. Quit it!" He batted her hands away, but Valkyrie didn't let up, drawing him into a slapping match.

"All right, enough," Thor said, positioning himself between the two. He gained a slap from either side for his efforts. Thor raised his voice for the rest of the bay, "everyone out! We're ready to dock!"

The deckhands secured their cargo and filtered out, avoiding the large double doors to the left. Hulk had taken up residence there, in the main cargo bay, and few wished to brave his presence.

"Better?" Thor asked, turning to Loki, but his brother merely stood with arms crossed. "What?"

"I said I'd change when the rabble cleared."

Thor scanned the empty bay, then noticed Loki's gaze stayed firmly on him. "What, me? I've seen you shift thousands of times!"

Loki merely narrowed his eyes.

"I told you he's shy," Valkyrie said, her grin mocking.

"No worries," Korg said. "I understand. We'll just turn around, yeah?" He did so, Miek swinging around on his back to now face the group. It wiggled it's arms.

Thor threw up his hands, shaking his head. "Fine! Do as you wish. Come," he waved Valkyrie to follow as he moved to leave, but she remained.

"Oh," Loki said. "She's not rabble."

Thor glanced between the two, both wearing smirks designed to needle. He gave up, turning for the door. "Children, the both of you."

"Later, your highness!" Valkyrie called. She received a rude gesture in return. Laughing, she turned back to Loki. "You're such an ass."

"Mm," he agreed, watching the bay doors close behind his brother. To be honest, he hadn't demanded privacy merely to vex Thor. Though his brother knew of Loki's origins, he'd never seen the truth of it with his own eyes. Blue skin, red eyes, curving horns, it was not a pretty sight.

Thor had been… distant, since discovering the truth. Granted, much of that could be attributed to their disastrous fight on the Bifrost. And their disastrous fight on Midgard. And then that disastrous fight on Svartalfheim. And perhaps the disastrous fights in the palace, Sakaar, and then the Bifrost again. But still.

It wasn't just that. Thor was very open about his displeasure with Loki's actions these past few years. Loudly and vocally open. This was different. This was the furtive glances Thor sent his way when Jötunheim was mentioned in casual conversation, the way his laughter at Giant Jokes cut off halfway through, the way he choked and backtracted when he'd said he was glad Loki was wearing green again because blue wasn't his color.

At that last one, Loki had been caught between laughing at Thor's embarrassment and punching his nose in.

"Right," Valkyrie slapped Loki between the shoulderblades. He fought not to stumble under the blow. "Shit or get off the pot. We're almost docked.

Loki sighed, but began shifting his form. It was getting easier, flitting between his familier Às skin and Jötunn. It had been difficult, at first, after removing Odin's charm. His body hadn't wanted to return to the false form he'd worn for so many years. But with Valkyrie's help, he'd found a balance, allowing him to walk as an Às during the day and rest as a Jötunn in the evening.

(He hadn't asked for her help and she hadn't asked if he wanted it. She simply thrusted it upon him as one assigned chores to a child.)

He let out a shaky breath and eyed the doorway Thor had disappeared through. Standing here, exposed, where any Às might wonder through… It was difficult.

"What's this?" Valkyrie demanded, gesturing to Loki's garments.

"What?" he asked. He'd magicked his tunic and boots to storage (this form quickly grew too warm under too many layers) and lain an illusion over his britches. He now appeared to wear the leather kilts he'd seen the Jötnar sport on Thor's poorly thought out voyage to Jötunheim. It was more… revealing then he'd like, but he was certain he'd gotten the details correct.

"You look like a royal guard. What the fuck would the king's retinue be doing in a middle of a nowhere slum-station?"

"Uh-" He waved his hands, unsure. He hadn't realized an unadorned kilt could count as a uniform.

"Here," she said. "Add a few layers. Put some colored trim, red or orange, along here and here. Think something between Northern Midgard and Uthflur Dwarf."

He adjusted the illusion as she instructed, making it longer and less plain, incorporating tassels and layered cloths. A pouch hung from his hips, a woven armband about his biceps, a necklace of hack-silver. Eventually the Valkyrie nodded.

"All right," she said, looking him over." You look… not terrible."

Loki huffed.

"I think you look quite striking!" Korg said. He'd turned back around and was now smiling at Loki's new look. "Though, if you're going for Frost Giant, you might want to go a bit taller. They are giants, after all."

Loki growled. "This isn't an illusion, this is my natural form."

Though Loki was taller as a Jötunn than an Às, he was still noticeably shorter than the average Giant. Loki suspected he stood a head above Thor now, though he was disappointed to note, not quite as tall as the Kronan.

"Oh," Korg blinked. "Is that why you were embarrassed to change before?"

"No, I was-"

"Well, don't worry!" The Kronan continued over Loki's denials. "I won't judge! I'm short myself. It's true! Most Kronan are a good 7'11", or even 8 foot. But I'm only 7'10". My cousins never let me live it down."

Loki grit his teeth and turned to Valkyrie. "Must he come?"

She laughed and slapped him on the arm.

* * *

Loki, Korg, and Miek stepped from the gangway onto the station's docks. The sounds and smells of hundreds of different species spilled over them in a miasma of colors, shouting, and bustling barter. Valkyrie, being Às (uncouth and boorish, but Às), remained behind. She shouted a final 'be good!' before slapping the control panel to her right, the ship's gangway sliding back into place, a wall between the Asgardians and this crime-ridden slum.

The dockyard stretched for countless stories above and below, ships of all sizes and colors anchored to the many docks snaking from the mainway. The S.S. Asgard, being a fairly large vessel, was moored towards the farther reaches, close to the atmospheric barrier. Ships passed through the enormous forcefield, bringing illicit goods to and from the harbor.

Loki had been to interstellar trading posts before, but those had either been properly licensed or were much smaller. He'd never set foot in one so large that flaunted its lawlessness so proudly. He passed crates of Boverik Reeds, smuggled Lotherian pottery, a dozen Chesking Spitter cubs bound and headed for market. Heimdall was right to advise caution, Asgard had restricted or outlawed many of these goods and services and strictly enforced such measures throughout the Nine Realms. Undoubtedly, an Às setting foot on Vertex Station would quickly… disappear.

But Loki gained only a few odd glances here and there, which he attributed more to his unusual retinue (and perhaps his short stature) than his race. While the Jötnar were citizens of the Nine Realms, it was well known they were reluctant citizens.

Loki lead them through the docks, dodging multi-limbed deckhands and sparking maintenance drones. The markets were further in, towards the center of the spindle-shaped station. It wasn't difficult to find, a steady flow of goods and merchants lead them through crowded corridors and packet elevators. Navigating the traffic was irritating, carts ran over toes, implike Gublings presented a tripping hazard as they darted between legs, and brutish Argots trundled through the crowd like slow moving avalanches. Loki's preferred method of moving through such crowds— dodging and weaving with the occasional application of an elbow or two— didn't work as well with his new height, and he found himself getting shoved and pushed this way and that. Korg, though, had no such difficulty, pressing through the hubbub with a jolly stride. Loki fell back to walk in the rock monster's wake.

Eventually the stream of people and creatures poured into the market halls. Stalls and booths cluttered the corridors, selling everything from herbs to explosives. They passed a tent selling spices that tickled Loki's nose unpleasantly, another with devices designed to pick locks. Korg commented on the sights with an easy smile, pointing at odds and ends he thought Miek might enjoy. Miek babbled something that the Alltongue had trouble translating, but it seemed to have to do with articulated rotors.

Loki peered over the Kronan's shoulder, avoiding Miek's folded knives, scanning the stalls. He tapped his companion and raised his voice over the market's chatter. "Over there, the booth of wires!" He pointed.

"Right away, Boss!"

Loki talked his way from booth to stall to cloistered counter, overselling Asgard's junk and undercutting merchants' wares. He focused on foodstuffs first, then medical supplies, then items for maintenance and repairs. Thor had been quite adamant he barter for fuel, too, but Loki saved that for last. Though tricky, he was confident he could use the Tesseract to recharge the ship's fusion cells. He couldn't do it too often, or take too long, less he gain the attention of… Well, best not to think of it. But there wasn't any way he could get everything on Thor's list AND fuel. He wasn't curtained he'd be able to secure even all the food they'd need. No, Loki would draw up a fake contract for 'supercharged cells' and present it to his brother with a smile.

He'd just finished trading some rare Asgardian scrolls (actually air duct maintenance manuals, but the Kivik merchant was unlikely to know Sakaaran script from Asgardian), and was arranging to meet the merchant at the docks that evening when a shout rang out behind him.

"Oy! Ya blue bastard!"

Loki turned to find an entourage of seven Ergons glaring at him. Scarlet skinned and fang-mouthed with a mane of black spines shivering along their broad shoulders, the Ergons were not a pleasant race to look upon and even less pleasant to deal with. The crowd of shoppers, wanting not to be caught in their wrath, drew away from the armed and snarling group.

"Not here, not here!" The Kivik merchant pleaded, but no one was paying her attention.

"Where's my money?" The largest of the Ergons stepped forward, his golden eyes locked on Loki's own.

"You know these fellows?" Korg asked.

"No," Loki said, eyeing the ruddy brutes. He'd never seen them before.

"They seem to know you."

"They're mistaken."

Loki addressed the Ergons. "I've no quarrel with you. Be gone."

"Bo gone, it says," the leader growled, shaking the spines along his back so they clattered and clicked. "We go nowhere until you pay. With money, or with blood." It hefted a rifle, mismatched tubing running the gun's length, gas canisters slotted into its side.

Loki felt ice begin to collect along his arms and hands in response to his quickening pulse. He tried to tamp it down. Energy could neither be created nor destroyed, and Jötnar 'created' cold by leaching heat from their surroundings. Forming too much ice here, in the muggy market, would overheat his core.

"You know," Korg said, "this seems like some kind of misunderstanding. Maybe we could talk it out? Over tea?"

"How about," the Ergon said, yanking a lever on his weapon, "over barbecue."

A gout of flame burst from the nozzle, aimed for Loki's chest. Loki, though, had plenty of experience with fire, both using it and defending against it. The sorcerer stepped to the side, drawing the flames in a curving arch past his person, where they fell upon the Kivik's stall. Loki had used this method of redirection countless times, the heat of the fire dancing along his palms. Of course, those times he'd been in his Às skin. Now, though, his Jötunn flesh drew the heat into itself like a sponge, searing his palms.

Korg flung himself into the Ergon's side, knocking the flamethrower askew. Shoppers screamed as the flames washed over the crowd. The other Ergons jumped to their leader's aid, pulling curved blades on the larger Kronan. Miek raised its own knives, slashing from Korg's back as the Kronan spun and punched.

Loki felt as if he'd scraped the skin of his hands clean off, the lighter blue of his palms now an ugly mottled purple. Casting with his fingers so wounded would be near impossible. Loki held them close to his chest. The heat of the burning stall behind him was overpowering and the smoke of melting plastics stung his eyes.

One of the Ergons broke from the fight with Korg, its knives flashing in the firelight. Loki, his hands useless, was forced to dodge, but the scarlet thug corralled him towards the scalding stall. The Ergon raised its blades, ready to drive them under Loki's ribs, but Loki delivered a kick to the creature's knee, folding it with a crunch. The Ergon stumbled forward with a howl and, without thought, Loki headbutted it in the snout, driving the bone into its skull. It crumpled to the floor, twitching.

That… worked rather well. Perhaps these horns weren't mere decoration.

The leader was bringing its rifle around again, waiting for a clear shot on Korg. Loki hunched forward and, with a yell, charged. He slammed into the creature skull first, bone against thick muscle. The Ergon, even heavier than his bulky frame appeared, didn't go down, though he did stumble. The Ergon grabbed Loki about the shoulders, one armed, and tried to throw him off, but Loki twisted and caught some scarlet flesh with the point of a horn.

The creature screeched, digging claws into Loki's collar bone, and Loki responded by gauging at its yellow eye. Battle-fogged, he'd forgotten the burns on his hands, and they sung with pain as the skin peeled against the Ergon's ridged face. The pain drew frost to his skin, though, and the Ergon screeched again as frostbite bloomed wherever it still touched his Jötunn hide.

It released Loki and stumbled back, Loki himself falling to his knees. Korg flung his fists through the remaining Ergons, Miek slicing anything that came within reach. Two of the brutes lay dead on the market floor, trampled beneath stomping feet.

Loki pushed himself to stand, panting in the overwhelming heat, drawing energy to his fingers. He wouldn't be able to cast anything complicated, nor wield a weapon, but he could throw bolts of force if nothing else.

A booming shout shook the combatants and suddenly a wave of ice cut through the melee, spearing an Ergon and trapping another. Korg grabbed a third by the head, slamming it face first into the floor and leaving it to twitch. The Ergons' leader stood alone, blinking against frostbitten eyelids and waving its flamethrower between Loki and this new threat.

A Frost Giant, a properly giant Giant, stood a dozen feat away. Its head was shaved and its gray horns curved flush with its skull, much like those Loki had faced on Jötunheim. Its clothes, though, were different, a kilt of black and tan and a single-shouldered drape with yellow frey along the edges. It snarled, stalking towards the Ergon.

"You," the Ergon said, stumbling back.

"Me," the Jötunn growled. It stood head and shoulders over the Ergon, dwarfing even Korg as it strode by.

"You owe us money! You- I came to collect! I-"

"A fortnight."

"What?"

"I was to pay you in a fortnight."

"Yes! Yes! Four nights!" The Ergon shouted, jabbing a finger at the Giant's sternum. "And it has been eight nights! You owe us!"

"A fortnight means two," the Giant held up two fingers beneath the Ergon's quivering snout, "weeks. Not four nights."

"It- I, we-" the creature glanced about, unsure. "Does it?"

"Yup, it's true," Korg piped up, Miek squeaking in agreement."

"Ah." The Ergon still looked unsure but, taking in the wreckage of its crew, backed down. "Yes, fine. You've- you've six more nights then. Right."

The Giant turned its back on the Ergon, a throaty thrum of irritation rumbling through the air. It's blood red eyes fell on Loki. "The Station's enforcers will arrive shortly. You do not wish to be here when they do. Come."

The Jötunn turned back the way it came, the crowd parting for it.

"Aren't you coming?" Korg asked. He'd made to follow the Jötunn, but paused when he noticed Loki's hesitation.

Loki glanced around, taking in the fire, angry stall owners, glaring crowd, and the barely restrained hostility of those Ergons not dead or dying.

It was a hard decision.

"Fine."

* * *

The Frost Giant lead them through back halls to the lower levels. Here, the old and worn craftsmanship of the station main gave way to to a haphazard patchwork of different metals, plastics, and exposed wiring. Clearly the remains of hundreds of scrapped ships, the lower levels were in turn drafty and broiling from one hallway to the next. Walkways creaked and pieces of the outer hull rattled ominously. Beings of various races huddled in alcoves or scuttled into dirty tents, eying the Giant wearily. What little law and order there may have been in the floors above clearly did not reach into this shanty town.

They entered a sizable room, dimly lit by a string of lights hung from the ceiling. A couple black and purple orcanoid beings lounged on stained pillows against one wall. They gurgled, blowing rings of smoke above their heads. The Frost Giant paid the aliens no mind as it passed, dropping its leather rucksack into an alcove in the room's far end.

Another Giant stood as they entered, shorter than the first, and slight of build. It's clothes were much like the first, but it wore its white hair long and braided and its horns formed a crownlike ridge along its hairline. Judging by its stature and gangly limbs, Loki figured it was an adolescent.

(And even still, it was taller than Loki!)

It's eyes landed on Loki with surprise. It composed itself before rushing to a pile of storage bins in the corner, digging through their contents. The larger Giant waved Loki and his companions in, settling onto the dusty mats lain upon the floor.

"I did not expect to see another Jötunn so far from home," it's voice rumbled through the room, mingling with the hum of distant engines.

"I am surprised as well." Loki stood with his arms folded in the small of his back, stance wide. The Jötnar hadn't been hostile so far, but Loki wouldn't let his guard slip.

Korg held no such reservations, folding to the floor opposite the Giant and slinging Miek off his back. The stubby Sakaaran stretched its pseudopods, squeaking.

"From where do you travel?" the Giant asked.

"Sakaar," Loki answered.

"Yes," Korg added, "we staged a rebellion! Overthrew the local government and everything!"

The Giant 'hmmed,' rubbing it's jaw in thought.

The younger Jötunn padded over, clutching some brightly colored packages. It spoke to the first (its father?) as it handed them out. "Those insect fellows we met in the canteen were from Sakaar." It settled next to its sire, popping its own packet open. Some sort of nutri-bar, apparently.

"Ah, yes. The trash planet."

"Yup," Korg said. "That's the one! I'm Korg, by the way. And this is Miek. And that's-"

"Loptr," Loki cut in.

"Oh," Korg blinked. "Is that how you say it? I've been saying it all wrong." He turned back to the Giants. "What about you guys?"

"Muthrun," the larger one said, touching its chest, then swept its hand to the younger. "Juri."

"Nice to meet ya," Korg smiled.

"And you," Murthrun nodded. "Tell me, Korg, where do you travel now?"

Korg looked about to answer, but Loki spoke first. "Away. Somewhere we can start over."

"Yup!" Korg unwrapped his food bar carefully. "We're stopping in here for supplies. It's a long trip to Midgard."

The Giants went still, gaze flickering from Korg to Loki. Loki did his best to keep his frustration from his face but the sealed nutri-bar popped open as his grip spasmed.

"Midgard?" The older Giant asked. "Are you sure that is wise?"

"It is one of several possibilities. And what of you?"

"We seek refuge as well," it said. "When were you last on Jötunheim?"

"Ah," Loki said, breaking off a chunk of the nutri-bar. It had a dusty smell to it. "Several years ago. And only briefly."

"Mm," the Giant nodded. "You are aware of Asgard's assault six years ago?"

"I had… heard of it."

"The capital was destroyed. The House of Vultnir seized on the chaos and declared Nuyina the new king. But those loyal to Helblindi would not bow. The war has been raging since. All the while, the planet falls further into ruin. Whatever weapon Asgard used to set the skies ablaze has hastened Jötunheim's fall. The ice rots beneath your feet, the lichenmoss eats through the forests and the waters grow foul. The elders pray for balance, but they are fools. There is no mercy to be found amongst the spirits."

"I bargained with the Dwarves for passage offworld through their trade routes, but there is no place for us in their forges. We have been trading our way from place to place since, until…" it waved a hand at their surroundings, the dingy air and meager accommodations. The Orcanoids giggled in the far corner, filling the room with their acrid smoke.

"Oh, that's horrible," Korg said. Miek agreed with a sad squeak. The Kronan perked up. "Why don't you come with us?"

"No!" Loki burst out, then softened his tone as their eyes turned to him. "Eh heh, that is, we would love to have you. Truly. But we've not enough supplies as it is. Two more mouths to feed, especially such… large mouths, we simply wouldn't be able to accommodate."

"Well, that's why we're here, isn't it?" Korg said. "To resupply!"

"Yes, and I've barely managed a month's worth of fare," Loki snarled, frustrated. "At this rate, we'll have to resort to cannibalism just to make it the next port, let alone anywhere habitable."

"I thought you had things in hand. Didn't you, Miek?" Korg turned to his companion, who gurgled.

The two Giants watched the exchange, Muthrun blank-faced, Juri with raised brows.

"Well what do you expect?" Loki demanded, pulling out the trade lists Thor had given him. "I'm pedaling junk! We're lucky I've secured as much as I have. Especially with the ridiculous prices these snakes are demanding! Do you have any idea what kind of-"

"How much do you need?" Muthrun asked.

"What?" Loki stopped his tirade to glance at the Giant.

"How much food do you need?"

"I—uh," There were two thousand seven hundred and eight Æsir on the ship, three hundred and forty nine Sakaarans, and one Hulk. Most of the Sakaarans ate less than the average Às, but the Hulk more than made up for any food saved that way. The average Asgardian could put away 10,000 calories of food per day but could subsist off about 3,500 if necessary.

Loki studied the nutria-bar he'd been given. It didn't list any nutritional facts but the writing was in Xandarian. Loki was fairly sure the Xandarians had a typical humanoid metabolism. Assuming one nutria-bar was meant to be a complete meal then an Às would need to consume about two per meal to meet their minimum caloric intake.

Two bars per meal at three meals per day times seven months times 3,0058 mouths…

Loki ticked off the numbers in his head and rounded up, "about Thirty eight million five hundred thousand of these bars. Or the nutritional equivalent."

"When do you depart?"

"Tomorrow morning."

The Giant nodded, tapping a finger to its lips. Loki waited as it thought.

"I can obtain a third of that. I need only five hours."

Loki raised his eyebrows, taking in the Jötnar's humble abode and meager belongings. "How?"

Muthrun smirked, the first time Loki had seen anything approaching a smile on its face. He wasn't sure he cared for it. "I have my ways."

"Oh, that's fantastic!" Korg enthused. "Isn't that fantastic, Miek?"

Miek squealed.

"And in return?" Loki knew what the Giant would demand, but asked anyways.

"Passage on your ship."

Loki nodded, thinking. One third of their provisions for, essentially, free. It was invaluable. Two and a half months of life, of three thousand people living to see a new home, the continuation of the Às race.

It was possible, just possible, Loki could secure the necessary provisions on his own, though he was certain he'd need to resort to a bit of gambling to do so. And while Loki had great confidence in his skills of chance and cheat, such things were never guaranteed. He could still sometimes feel needles in his lips when the weather changed…

But Frost Giants on their ship? And their ship chartered for Midgard to boot? Even if, somehow, no one was murdered on the way, Thor would never allow a Jötunn to step foot on his precious Earth. Hell, Loki wouldn't allow it! Asgard had chased the Giants off that planet once, they'd hardly invite them back in exchange for some lousy candy bars.

But, these Jötnar needn't know that. Get the supplies on board, shut the doors, and leave the filthy beasts raging on the docks. Yes. It was perfect! And he wasn't even gambling. Thor would be so proud. Ha!

"It is a deal," Loki said. He let his glee bleed through to brighten his smile.

"A deal," the Giant agreed, touching its chest and then its lips. Loki mimicked the gesture.

* * *

They had arranged to meet at the docks that evening. The Æsir had already been told to stay on the ship, to let the Sakaarans handle the loading and unloading of goods, but Loki returned early to make extra sure they stayed out of sight when the Jötnar came by. He'd rather not cause a scene until after all of the goods had been loaded and they were ready to depart.

By the time Loki had made his way back to the ship there was already a number of porters dropping off and picking up goods. Loki had to point out the 'special' items he had traded to the Sakaarans ("I know it's trash, but don't tell them that!"), and had to chase some overly helpful Æsir out of the cargo bay. (And he was not pleased that one of them had caught him in his Jötunn skin.)

He left instructions with the Sakaaran foreman to send word when the Jötnar arrived.

"And do not let them on this ship. Understood?"

The insectoid creature gurgled its assent and Loki left the loading bay, now in his Às skin and clothes, readying his report for Thor. His brother wasn't hard to find. Eager as he was to learn the details of Loki's excursion, Thor met him halfway to the conference room. Loki, puffing his chest, gave him the good news as they walked.

"I've secured enough fare to last us until Midgard and then some! Twenty three crates of various medical supplies, thirty seven crates of clothing in different sizes, a few pallets of spare parts, those maintenance tools Krilgik requested—including a brand new plasma drill—and even one hundred and fifty crates of bedding supplies!"

Thor was beaming. "And fuel?"

Loki pulled a small envelope from his pocket with a flourish and presented it to Thor.

"Ignoriant Supercharged Energy Cells?" Thor read.

"The very best this side of the galaxy." Loki would sneak into the engine room later and see to their 'installation.'

Thor laughed and drew Loki into a hug. Loki protested, squirming in his brother's grip, though not with much conviction.

Back in the conference room, Loki detailed his haul more thoroughly for the gathered men and women. They would need to divvy up things such as bedding and clothing based on need. Many of the crew had only the one set of clothes and most were using packing material as bedding. Loki had also gotten some luxury goods, such as sweets and fresh fruit, and those things would be carefully rationed.

It had been nearly two hours when a Saakarn crew member burst into the room, panting.

"Loki, sir!"

"What is it?" Loki asked, the hair on the back of his neck prickling as he took in the creature's flustered appearance.

"I'm sorry," the creature said, "but the Kronan let them in."

Loki's stomach dropped.

"Let who in?" Thor asked.

"Nothing to worry about," Loki assured him with a smile. "A couple unsavory merchants. I'll deal with them."

Thor sighed as Loki got up to leave. "What have you done?"

"I got your bloody supplies, is what I've done," Loki snapped. "So shove off whilst I do my job." And he swept out the door, the Sakaaran at his heels.

"Where are they?" Loki demanded.

The Sakaaran lead the way. They came upon Korg, Miek, and the two Jötnar in the lower halls. The Kronan was walking slowly, pointing things out as they went. Several Æsir watched from a distance, clearly in the process of moving supplies from the loading bay to elsewhere in the ship, but afraid to brave passing the two Giants to do so. The Giants, for their part, looked no less uncomfortable. The younger held its rucksack close to its chest, as if the dirty leather might offer some protection.

Muthrun, though; Loki was concerned about that one. It had to hunch to fit in the corridor, but it stood with its hands flexing by its sides. Its expression almost seemed blank, but Loki had seen such a look before. Eyes just a bit too wide, jaw clenching and nostrils flared. It was the look of a cornered beast waiting for the time to bolt… or strike.

"And here's another broom closet. We've got a lot of those-"

"Korg!"

The Giants started at Loki's yell and it took a moment for them to recognize him in his Às form. The younger one greeted him with a grin that was, frankly, far too excited considering the situation, but Muthrun's expression turned to one of tampered horror as Loki drew near.

"Oh, hello, Lopti!" Korg waved at Loki's approach.

"Korg," Loki snarled, grabbing the Kronan's arm. "May I speak with you a moment?"

"Certainly!" He said, and let Loki guide him away from the two Giants. "Be back in a jiffy," he called over his shoulder.

Loki stopped at a junction further down, keeping the Jötnar in sight. Three Æsir stood to the side, staring at the intruders. Loki ordered them away before turning on the stone simpleton.

"What do you think you're doing?" he hissed.

"Well, I'm showing them around the ship, then to their rooms. Figured they could stay with the big guy since they're, you know, big too. You don't think Mr. Hulk will mind, do you? Having roommates?"

"I think the beast would mind very much. More to the point, I mind! I won't have those things on my ship!"

"But, you invited them."

"It was a trick, I lied."

Korg and Miek gasped.

"Frost Giants are dangerous, treaturious beasts! They'd as soon kill you as greet you. Letting them our vessel is asking for a massacre."

Korg frowned, looking torn. "I don't know, Mr. Lopti. They seem like decent enough fellows to me." He turned and waved to the Jötnar, who watched them intently. The younger one waved back.

Loki spat, "It's been well established that you're an idiot."

Miek gave an incredulous meep and Korg crossed his arms, rocky skin scraping as he did so. "Now there's no need to use names."

Loki growled. "You will get those beasts off my-"

"Lacky!" Valkyrie's voice cut through their hissed conversation as she strode past them. "Look at you, making friends."

"Brunnhild!" He ducked around the Kronan to catch up with her.

"That's my name!" She agreed, then addressed the Jötnar. "And how about you two?"

The younger Giant looked to its companion, but the elder didn't seem inclined to speak, so it answered instead. "I am Juri. This is my dame, Muthrun."

"Nice to meet you," Valkyrie said, grinning. Juri returned her smile with a tentative one of its own but Muthrun continued with its wide eyed glare.

"Brunnhilde," Loki said, grabbing her shoulder, "this is- that is to say-"

"Don't worry," she said, pulling him into a one armed hug, though 'hug' wasn't an aggressive enough description of the embrace. "I'm not gonna kill them."

Muthrun hissed.

"Ah-hah!" loki laughed nervously, pulling himself out of her grip. "That's… good. These two fine fellows helped us secure our food supplies for the trip. In fact, I was just about to go look it over with them." If he could get them to the loading bay perhaps he could trick them outside.

But they didn't move.

"It's all there," Muthrun spoke.

"Yes," Juri said, "though our ways of obtaining it did not go unnoticed. It would be wise to depart soon."

Oh. Oh! This was perfect. Loki could use their dishonesty as an excuse to have them removed from the ship.

"Are you saying you stole it?" Loki gasped, hand to his heart.

"We… redirected it," Juri smirked.

Loki shook his head, eyes sad and shoulders slumped. "Oh dear, oh-" he choked on his words as Valkyrie slapped his back with a loud 'HA!'

"I like them already! Hey, you!" She pointed at a deckhand, still watching from down near the bay doors. "Make sure everything's inside! We leave in twenty! And you two, follow me. Let's find you a place to bunk, ya?"

The younger Giant followed her eagerly, Korg falling into step, too. Muthrun was less enthusiastic. It leveled Loki a look as they turned the corner, a look that boded ill for Agard's second prince.

Shit.


	2. Chapter 2

His reception upon returning to the meeting room was considerably less favorable the second time around. Someone (bloody Heimdall) had passed word on about their new passengers and the Æsir members of the council were less than enthused. The Sakaaran representative didn't seem to understand what all the hubbub was about.

Thor just looked tired.

"I hadn't planned to let them board," Loki said, arms crossed. He stood near the head of the table, too antsy to take a seat.

Thor scrubbed his hands down his face, careful to avoid his eyepatch this time. "You may have mentioned before it became an issue."

"It wouldn't have become an issue if that brain-dead Kronan hadn't bumbled into the middle of it!"

The Kronan in question was not present, probably off having tea with the frost monsters.

"It wouldn't have been an issue if you didn't take such pride in your schemes! A word of warning, that is all I ask!"

"Bah!"

"And how do you plan to fix this, Prince Loki," Kvathi asked. He was an old grump of a man, a minor noble who'd managed to survive Hela's purge through sheer cowardice.

"Tell them an airlock's the loo and flush them out," Loki shrugged. "Or feed them to the green beast. Whatever, I don't care."

"I'm confused," the Sakaaran, Lulu, spoke up, her yellow gills flaring with her words. "Are they… spies or something? Why are they so dangerous?"

"They are Frost Giants." Kvathi gestured with conviction, frustrated with the Sakaaran's ignorance. "They are innately evil creatures. Sooner or later they will turn on us. In fact, do we even know the supplies they traded us are safe?" This last he addressed to Loki.

"Yes, they're fine," Loki rolled his eyes. (He hadn't thought of that. He'd check the supplies later.)

"They have given us no reason to harm them." Thor's words were muffled, face in his hands.

"Yet," Loki said.

"They are Jötnar," Kvathi said. "They'll give us reason. Better to act before they do."

"Hey, sad sacks!" Valkyrie announced her presence, somehow managing to open the sliding door with a bang. "What'cha all moaning about now?"

"So good of you to join us," Loki sneered, arms crossed.

"Sorry, got caught up showing your friends around," she said, throwing herself into a chair and slamming her heels on the table. "I partitioned off part of Hulk's hull. He was pissy about it but I think him and the kid'll get along. The mom, though, she's real pissed at you."

Loki choked. "That thing is a woman?"

Valkyrie stared at him for a beat, brows raised, before barking out a laugh.

"Are you for real?" she demanded. "Do I have to have the Jötunn sex talk with you?"

Loki's cheeks burned and his tongue caught in his throat. He was uncomfortably aware of the many Æsir eyes boring into his skin. A couple of the older men snickered, their looks unkind. Marta, the matron in charge of the ship's orphaned youths, shook her head, her lips pursed.

"Please don't," Thor said, finally emerging from behind his hands. "You say it is a mother and her child?"

"Yeah," Valkyrie said, tearing her eyes— and her infuriating grin— from Loki to address Thor. "Muthrun and Juri. They're looking for a new home because someone shot their old one with a space laser."

The council's muttering turned darker.

"And if someone," Loki said, pointedly looking at Thor, "hadn't destroyed the Bifrost then Jotunheim would be dust and we wouldn't be in this mess."

The mutterings turned in his favor.

Valkyrie countered, "and what 'mess' is that, exactly? The 'mess' where we got three months worth of food for free?"

"The mess where we have two Frost Giants dirtying our halls!"

"Three." Valkyrie wiggled three fingers in the air.

The mutterings grew hushed.

Loki had stopped breathing.

Thor sighed. "Brother…"

He didn't respond, he didn't say a word as he left.

* * *

Thor had decided to let them stay, announced that Asgard keeps its bargains— even to Jötnar.

Since when?

Since when had promises to Jötnar meant anything? When they'd commissioned Asgard's walls? When they'd bargained weregild with Skaði?

When Odin had called Loki his son?

Loki slammed a fist through a crate, grabbed its tin sides, tearing it in two. His burnt palms ached from the abuse, fueling his rage further.

The little storage room, his training room, was emptier now. The few things of any worth it had held bargained away for Asgard's survival. Bargained by Loki.

He a grabbed one half of the scrap metal and threw it against the far wall where it clattered into a heap, the dim overhead lights flickering from the impact.

"Wow, what crawled up your ass?"

Loki snatched up the twisted remains of the crate and slung it behind him, towards the door. Valkyrie batted it aside with her blade.

"I'm not in the mood, wench!"

"Oh, ho! Keep that up and I'll scrub your mouth out with soap!"

"I'm not a child!"

"You're acting like one."

Loki shouted and kicked another crate. It tumbled across the floor with a cacophonous clang.

Of course she'd track him down, find him and taunt him. He shouldn't have come here, their littling training room. But there were few places on the ship with anything even approaching privacy, and none of them big enough to let off steam.

"What are you so pissed about?" She didn't sheath her sword, ready for more projectiles to come her way. "You invited them."

"You're as bad as that idiot Kronan!"

"Thank you," she said, and her smile grew at Loki's growl.

"I was going to take their fare and leave them on Vertex, never to be seen again."

"That's a pretty shit thing to do."

"Their Jötnar! It doesn't count!"

"Still shitty."

"Odin would have done it," Loki hissed. "He would have laughed at their ugly faces as we left them on the docks." Bargains with Jötnar didn't count.

"Your dad was a pretty shit guy," Valkyrie said.

Loki bared his teeth. "How dare you? He was your king."

"And he was a shit king."

Loki shouted again, striding into her space, but Valkyrie didn't flinch.

"He was," she said, unimpressed as Loki snarled inches from her face. "He lied and cheated and didn't give a shit who he hurt so long as he got his way. He's the reason Hela went nuts, he's the reason Surtr bound his soul to Asgard's destruction, and he's the reason we can't get anyone to help us when we need it the most! The universe is filled with his enemies and now we're paying for it! You want to be like your dad?" She sheathed her sword and stepped back, spreading her hands. "Keep it up."

And with that, she left.

Loki drew fire to his hands and set the room ablaze.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I'm not sure who first started the sire/dame thing. I may have first read it in aylithe's "Jötunheimr" works. Regardless, I did not come up with the convention. Also, the Jötnar use the pronouns zhe/zher. Grammatically, it works the same as she/her or he/him.

Oh, and I forgot to mention before! In case some of you were wondering, Jötnar is the plural of Jötunn. Likewise, Æsir is the plural of Ás, which are the old Norse words for the Asgardian gods. In this fic, I use "Ás" for the race originating in Asgard and "Asgardian" to refer to anyone who lives there. So, a Vanr (the race from Vanaheim) living/raised in Asgard would be an Asgardian but not an Ás.

And now, chapter 3!

* * *

 _"The King vouches for them."_

 _"And The Prince disagrees!"_

 _"I trust Thor's Judgment over his brother's."_

 _"Why are they even here? Why were they ever let on the ship in the first place?"_

 _"Struck some kind of bargain. Traded a few supplies for passage."_

 _"Passage to Midgard? Has the King gone mad? The last thing we need is a group of Giants tearing up the countryside. We'll have enough problems to deal with as is!"_

 _"King Thor is young, but he isn't unintelligent. He surely has a plan to deal with the beasts. We need only trust in him."_

 _"Perhaps."_

* * *

Thor was being unreasonable.

Loki had spent several hours dogging his brother's footsteps through the ship, explaining in very thorough detail why keeping the Jötnar on board was a poor choice. He'd even arranged for Thor to speak with half a dozen veterans, worried mothers, and one very timid child about their fears and concerns regarding the two blue 'guests' in the hold. Thor brushed all of this aside with an 'Asgard keeps its promises' and a patronizing pat on the shoulder.

"Jötnar can't be trusted, Thor."

"I trust _you."_

"No you don't!"

And he rightly shouldn't. Loki had felt an overwhelming desire to stab his brother all day.

Loki was exhausted. His less than successful work with the ship's power cells didn't serve to improve his mood, either. Using the Tesseract to recharge the spent cells was, it seemed, far more difficult than he'd anticipated. He'd spent nearly four hours in the engine room incinerating one cell after another after another as the Cube's unruly power ate away at the batteries and his seiðr until he'd finally called it a night.

The door to his quarters slid closed with a dry grind, the chartreuse fey lights he'd set along the ceiling flittering on as he passed beneath them. It had taken six weeks of spellcraft to expand the room into something halfway comfortable, folding space into the higher dimensions, tricking reality into giving him just a few more feet. The room was still cramped, and it still had all the charm of a dusty storage closet. But it was private. And it was just large enough to _let go._

He'd been putting it off. Ever since the Giants had boarded he'd had an illogical fear of someone walking in on him or of getting himself stuck or some other improbability. But it had been eight days and the strain was wearing on him. He knew he'd lose control come the ninth.

Loki sighed and with his next breath his form shifted, growing taller, growing colder. The chill of his quarters was now a pleasant warmth and the subtle fey light now had the soft glow afternoon sun through a spring canopy. Even the hard metals of the walls and floor didn't feel so uninviting to this thicker skin.

It was still cramped, though.

Loki settled onto the mattress he'd dragged to the floor some weeks back. The bed, inset into the cabin walls, had been too small even when he'd been Ás. Even with dimensional stretching it would never accommodate his Jötunn height. Instead, he'd converted it into a shelf, occasionally using it as a desk for paperwork and the like.

His skin didn't look quite so muddy under the fey lights.

Loki sighed again, stripping out of his leathers, the loose cotton of his underclothes a relief in the warmth of his rooms. He hated doing this, needing to do this. If he'd left well enough alone, hadn't tampered with Odin's little spell-pin, then he'd have been able to retain his Às skin indefinitely. But curiosity had gotten the better of him and he still hadn't recovered from the years of enforced shapeshifting. Maintaining his Às form was _draining._ It itched and pulled and he just…

He closed his eyes and lay down, arms at his sides, rough palms held away from the ridged skin of his body.

His magic needed the rest. He could deal with it until morning.

* * *

Æsir.

With all the stories Juri had heard of the Æsir zhe expected demons. Snarling fangs, and burning hands. But these, they could almost be mistaken for children. They even wore their hair long! Oma said every Às was trained for battle, but that was hard to believe when they wore braids and buns like craftsmen and farmers.

And they were so little! Juri wasn't fully grown, but even still zhe towered over even the tallest Às!

Juri knew it would be a terrible idea, but zhe desperately wanted to pat one on the head.

 _"We are to stay here,"_ Zher dame had said, dragging zher from the bay doors and the sight of Æsir toiling amongst the cargo. Oma was desperately afraid. Zhe remembered the Midgard Wars, remembered Asgard's burning blades and swarming hordes. "We stay in these rooms, away from the Æsir. Do not speak to them, do not look on them, and give them no reason to look on you. We stay quiet and maybe we survive."

But surely, surely, they weren't all bad. The one with the face markings, Brunnhilde, she'd been friendly. She'd sparred with words and was generous with smiles as she'd settled them into their new accommodations. She'd even spoken of Jötnar from the past, ones she'd called friends. If she could be kind, why couldn't others?

 _"An Às's word is like candle ice, pretty and worthless."_

Oma planned to sneak off board the next time they made port. Oma figured if they left before they reached Midgard the Æsir wouldn't be bothered to track them down. Zhe was convinced the Æsir would have their heads before they let any Jötnar step foot on the Mortal Realm.

But where would they go? Oma didn't know.

 _"Somewhere else. Someplace else."_

Oma was scared. Zher thoughts were still caught in the war. But the war was centuries ago! Things had changed. They must have.

The Æsir had lost their home, too.

Brunnhilde said that Loki (for that was Loptr's true name) was indeed Jötunn, claimed by Odin King as son and Prince of Asgard. Oma didn't believe it, thought it another dirty Às lie, but Juri believed. Loki spoke like an Às, and zhe had been dressed like Juri's Omama, but zhe'd moved like a Jötunn, smiled like one.

And zhe was a shifter! Not just a shifter, but a seiðrmaster! Brunnhilde had told them this, too, told them Loki was a sorcerer capable of conjuring images and hidden blades, that he was versed in all of Asgard's magics, trained as a battlemage prince.

And if the Æsir could accept a Jötunn as their prince, surely things _had_ changed!

Oma insisted they be cautious. Well, Juri could be cautious.

Zhe waited until Zher dame slept. It took some days, as Oma was too unnerved to sleep deeply and would wake at the slightest sound (and Hulk was not a quiet neighbor). But Juri waited, knowing even Zher dame couldn't remain awake forever.

On the eighth night, as the lights throughout the ship dimmed, Juri realized zher dame had fallen into a doze in the corner of their room. (Their room was truly a corner of the main cargo bay, carved from Hulk's quarters with walls of crates and hanging plastic sheets. It was cramped, but more private than the room they shared with the Orcanoids on Vertex.)

"Oma?" Juri called quietly. Zhe crawled up to zher dame's side to tap gently on the ridges of Oma's face, just below zher eyes. "Oma, are you awake?"

Zher dame did not stir, and Juri could hear light snoring beneath the constant thrum of the ship's engines.

A smile found its way across zher face as zhe slipped between the hanging sheets and into the bay beyond. Broken containers, twisted iron rods, and torn packing material littered Hulk's abode. Juri stepped cautiously through the mess, peering over the mounds of trash. Hulk lounged in a nest of found things, clutching a barrel like a stitched toy. He slept.

Hulk was a curious man. Exceedingly strong but not terribly bright. Juri had thought him a Hill Giant, at first, but Oma had huffed a negative.

 _"Hill Giants are not green themselves. They only look so from the moss in their craggy skin."_

Juri had convinced Hulk to play a few card games with Zher, but the childish being threw a tantrum whenever he lost. And he usually lost.

Juri made zher way to the main entrance of the bay which lead to the loading bay. This held a great deal of supplies the Æsir hadn't yet found use for. Juri pressed close to the door jam, listening into the echoing hold. No voices, no sounds of little Æsir steps.

Good. There was one small thing zhe needed before adventuring on: a change of clothes.

Oma said there were ways of changing one's garb with one's form, but Oma had never managed it zherself. Oma's Oma had, apparently. But Omama had fallen before Juri was old enough to learn. Juri could remember, though, Omama shifting forms in the light of the campfire, growing fur and claws for the hunt.

That was before the hreindyr had all died off.

Juri crept between crates and palettes until zhe found the bound bundles of cloth. Zhe was careful opening them, careful not to tear the packaging. Zhe didn't want the theft to be noticed.

"Let's see, let's see…"

A gown would be easiest. Flowy and loose, zhe wouldn't have to worry about an exact fit. Juri selected one with a nice silver trim and blue cloth, like a clear morning sky, and held it up to zher chest.

It was so tiny!

Now to shift. Gowns were for females, were they not? Brunnhilde had worn britches, but she'd possessed a bossem as a nursing dame would, so Juri felt confident the Ás was indeed a woman.

Juri closed zher eyes, clutching the pretty cloth and thinking on Brunnhilde, her flowing hair, her curving hips, her bright eyes. Juri felt zher bones begin to shift and shrink, zher skin to soften and the ridges of zher brow to smooth. It was curious, and uncertain, but as zhe focused, zher magic reached out, seeking out the lifeforms nearby, learning the essence of an Ás. And as zher magic came to know the form, the changes came faster, with confidence, and Juri all but fell into this new skin.

She opened her eyes.

The bay was dark. Much darker than before, her new eyes designed for the bright vistas of Asgard instead of the dim of Jötunheim. Juri giggled, then giggled some more at the sound of her voice. It was so light! Like the tinkling of ice falling in the woods. She held out an arm and marveled at the light tan tones and smooth skin, her laylines hidden beneath the flesh.

Oh! Oma would be so mad!

Juri quickly dressed (for a loose definition of quick. The new clothes were confusing) and stashed her old kilt beneath some pallets. The dress was loose in the chest, but otherwise seemed fine. It flowed in lovely waves as she skipped across the hull and to the hallways beyond. Somewhere in these twisting corridors there was an elevator.

Ah! There! Next to the sixth storage closet Korg had pointed out. She dashed up to its control panel and slapped her hand against the digital display. The elevator gave a loud 'ker-chunk,' then a grinding hum as the mechanism ground to life. Juri hopped from foot to foot as she waited for the doors to chime open.

Oh, it was freezing! And it was so strange being unable to draw warmth to herself. Her toes felt as if they would fall off.

Scrambling into the lift, she pressed a button at random. The doors closed, the elevator jerked, and the pit of her stomach swooped with the movement of the platform. Lights fell by as she rose, illuminating the elevator through the crack in the door, until a tinny ding announced the end. The doors slid open with a squeak and she stepped out into the bright halls of the upper deck.

Voices. Æsir voices! Down the way and to her right. She stepped lightly, nerves flickering in her belly.

Would they realize she didn't belong? What if she'd botched her transformation?

Juri looked again at her hands. They seemed right to her. A panel in the wall had a bit of shine to it, and Juri bent to gaze at her reflection. It was distorted by the metal, but she looked roughly right. A little scrawnier than Brunnhilde, and her braided hair had more red to it than the Æsir woman. But that was all right, wasn't it? Oma had said Æsir came in an assortment of tans and browns.

"I still wish we could have gone aboard." The voices rounded the corner, two Æsir strolling down the way. They were male. (She thought they were male.) One fair skinned and fair haired, the other with fiery hair and speckles across his nose.

Juri straightened, clasping her hands before her.

Was this all right? Was there some way she was supposed to great them? Oh! They were taller than her, how strange!

"You all right?" the red one asked, slowing as they came near.

"Yes! Yes. Um. Yes, I am fine." She laughed, the nervous feeling in her chest bubbling to the surface.

They stared at her, brows pinched.

Had she done something wrong already?

"Are you sure? You don't have any shoes."

Shoes? Was that problem? Was it rude to go without?

"I'm sorry," she said, quickly. "I lost them."

The two Æsir glanced at one another, worry clear on their faces. So strange. They had no reservation, letting their emotions dance across their features even in the presence of a stranger.

The fair one spoke next, asking, "do you have family on board? Are you lost?"

Technically, yes, her dame slept in the holds below, but Juri wasn't about to say so. But that the Æsir men would ask meant there were those aboard who did not have family. Claiming she was an orphan would be an easier lie than claiming her family were somewhere about the ship.

"I am on my own," Juri said, gazing at her feet. If she looked sad enough, maybe the Æsir wouldn't ask too many questions. It felt wrong to display emotions so dramatically, but it seemed to be normal for the Æsir. "And I am a bit turned around."

"Hey, it's alright," the red one said, placing a hand between her shoulders and steering her to walk between them. "Have you had dinner? We're on the way to the dinning hall."

She hadn't, and said as much. The men lead her to a large hall with tall ceilings, flooded with soft golden light. It wasn't crowded, but then, it was a bit late in the evening. But even half empty the voices of those gathered rang out over empty bowls and half filled cups. The men showed her to the front of the room where a couple older women dished her a bowl of soup. It was hot, uncomfortably so, and she had to hold the bowl by its lip with the tips of her fingers. It smelled strange and, Juri was sure, would have been unappetizing where she still Jötunn. But now, the strange vegitables smelled absolutely delectable.

Her guides left her, then, finding their own companions in the crowd. Juri was left standing at the edge, soup held before her, as she studied the gathered people.

They shouted and jostled each other, slapping backs and spilling drink. They laughed with even as they punched each other in the arms and grabbed a headlock.

They didn't seem so small and cute now.

Perhaps she should have been a male. The men seemed to be bigger, both in size and width. But then, she was a youth still. She'd have likely been smaller than most regardless. And the room was so loud! There were only, maybe, a hundred or so, but their chatter filled the place as if they were a thousand. Laughing, singing, talking one over the other until their words were shouts.

"And I took a great leap, landing on the beast's back, driving my spear through its lungs!" A man on Juri's left shouted, miming the action with an empty cup. "It bucked and howled but I kept my grip until it fell, face first, into the bloody dirt!"

"Yeah, and my Aunt's a horse," another man drawled.

"No, it is true!" The first insisted. "Look! I've still got the frost scars from where it grabbed me." The man pulled back his sleeve, exposing skin discolored from an old wound.

Juri edged away.

She passed another group recounting a war on Vanaheim. Something recent that involved various 'rebals and bandits.' Yet another group was discussing the best blades for skinning boars. Another sung a song about the slaying of the Giant Þjazi.

The hall was feeling rather too warm, now.

She should go back. She should leave. Her dame was right, the Æsir were a bloodthirsty lot and if they found her out...

Juri picked her way along the edge of the crowd, doing her best not to meet their eyes. Mostly they ignored her, talking and laughing with each other where they sat on mats or improvised stools. Juri had to jump out of the way of one man who gestured wildly as she passed, regaling his friends with some great tale.

So open and loud.

"Hey! Where're your shoes?!"

Juri spun, soup sloshing over her hands. The boy who'd hailed her laughed as she cursed quietly.

Juri flicked the broth from her fingers as she answered. "I lost them."

"How'd you lose your shoes?" the boy asked, his smile clearly at her expense. He was small, perhaps half the size of an adult, and his hair was yellow and messy.

"If I knew how I lost them I'd be able to find them."

"Don't be rude, Gullr," an older girl said, her straight dark hair falling past her shoulders.

"I was just asking, Fjulla," the boy, Gullr, said.

There were a number of children and youths arranged in several loose circles at the edge of the hall. Fjulla and Gullr played with roughly carved little figures on a perforated board, the pieces standing proudly in their little holes.

The two youths were staring at her. She had to say something.

"What are you playing?"

Fjulla answered, "Tafl. Do you want to join?"

"I'm taking winner," another boy said. His voice was deep, like an adult's, but his limbs were a lanky youth's. "You can go after."

She glanced at the door, still some fifty feet away, then to the children. Gullr smiled a gap toothed grin.

"All right…"

Tafl, she learned, was a game of strategy. Being unfamiliar, Juri lost most of her matches. But Fjulla and her brother, Ragnar, were patient and assured Juri she only needed more practice. It was frustrating, but Juri didn't want to give up. It had been years since she'd played with anyone around her own age. Gullr was certainly younger, but the two siblings seemed to be her age.

The children were even louder than the adults, and the youngest of them ran throughout the hall, knocking over mugs or leaping over outstretched legs.

"I like your hair!" Gullr announced during one of Fjulla and Ragnar's matches. He tugged one of her braids. "Can you do mine like that?"

"Yours is a bit short," she laughed, ruffling his hair. It was very thin and light.

"It's not _that_ short! Can't you do a small one?"

"I don't know. Do you think you can sit still for it?"

He could. Mostly.

"Where are you from?" Fjulla asked, hopping her black game piece across the board.

"Oh, um, I grew up in the woods," Juri said, starting on another tiny braid.

 _(Asgard had woods, right? Yes, of course.)_

"Whereabouts?"

"Nowhere special. What about you?"

"Farm," Ragnar said, placing one of his pieces to sandwich his sister's between two of his own. Fjulla scowled as he snatched hers from the board.

"We were in Asgard for school," Fjulla said. "We're from Vanaheim, originally. But our mother wanted us to have an Asgardian education."

"Is she here, too?"

Fjulla and her brother's faces went blank.

"We don't got nobody here," Gullr said. "That's why Matron Marta's taking care of us."

"Oh," Juri stuttered. "Sorry."

"Your family made it on board, then?" Ragnar asked, not looking up from his game. It wasn't his turn.

"Um, yes. My dame- um, my mother. _She_ is sleeping right now."

Ragnar nodded. "You're lucky."

"Yeah…" She tied off Gullr's braid and started another. She sought for something to fill the sudden silence. "What was your school like?"

"Oh!" Fjulla said, her face brightening. "It was wonderful! It had the biggest library I'd ever seen!"

The girl went on about her studies, much to Ragnar and Gullr's annoyance, but Juri enjoyed hearing it. She'd never been in a room designed just for classes. It seemed an odd concept, staying inside and reading about things instead of going out and doing them. But then, Juri had only seen a handful of books throughout her life. Most of Jotunheim's libraries were guarded, the scrolls too valuable to risk.

She wondered if Midgard had libraries. Fjulla hoped so.

It wasn't long, though, before the children were called to bed. Gullr complained loudly as an older matron rounded them all up, insisting they bring their dishes to the front before filing out of the hall.

Fjulla held back as Juri placed her bowl with the other used eating ware.

"Do you want to play again tomorrow?" She asked.

Juri blinked, surprised. She hadn't thought about coming back. She'd been ready to flee the hall not too long ago, to hide again in the bay. The older Æsir were still loud, still singing songs of battle. But Fjulla looked so hopeful, and it had been so long since she'd had anyone to talk to besides her dame. Her dame, who would be in a rage if zhe ever found out.

"I don't know if I'll be able to come tomorrow." Juri would only be able to leave the lower floors if Oma remained unaware. She'd have to hope her dame would soon sleep deeply again. "But if I can, I will."

"Okay," Fjulla smiled, her dark eyes crinkling at the corners. "We're usually by the west wall. You'll see us."

Juri returned the girl's smile as the group left. With a skip in her step, she made for the lower holds.

This had been an excellent idea!


	4. Chapter 4

_"It's been almost three weeks and the King hasn't done anything about those things in the hold."_

 _"We should be patient. Thor has proven himself a strategic man. He would not sit idle whilst danger stalks our halls."_

 _"And yet he does!"_

 _"Patience-"_

 _"What is his plan, then? Hmm? It seems to me he is making a hobby collecting oversized beasts."_

 _"He… I am sure he has reason."_

 _"The Prince seems less sure. I've heard him speaking with some of the veterans of Midgard. He was quite adamant the creatures must go."_

 _"I would trust Thor over his brother any day."_

 _"I would too, on most days. But these are not 'most days.'"_

* * *

It wasn't working!

Loki dropped the Tesseract with a frustrated shout, letting it fall back into his intra-dimensional pocket. He had tried to weave the cube's energy into the power cells, delicately and with precision, but it was like trying to water a violet with a tsunami. Each time he lost his grip on the raging energy, frying the cell.

The chemical stench of the burnt husks ate at the back of his throat.

He'd tried lowering the cube's output, moderating its frequency, or using a conductive medium between it and the batteries, but nothing worked.

They had a week's worth of fuel left. No one but Loki knew.

He raked his hands through his hair, hissing when the strands caught in the healing skin of his palms.

Blast it all!

It was an energy source! Even the mortals had used it as such, creating weapons and vehicles. Bloody mortals! And here Loki was— a blasted god!— unable to recharge one damn battery!

Loki aimed a kick at one of the molten fusion cells but thought better of it, sliding to the floor instead. The engine room was uncomfortably hot, even as an Às, the great machines pumping and steaming as they sent power throughout the ship. Few came down here, and only for as long as necessary to change the cells or check things were running as they should. Loki wasn't entirely sure the machines were supposed to be steaming, but the Sakaaran engineers hadn't mentioned it yet.

He let his head thunk against the wall, sheet metal thrumming low with the impact, his eyes drawn to the cell. It smoldered on his improvised ritual mat, sparks of of power burying themselves into the burlap. He'd have to dispel the built up energy in the mat soon.

Loki's head ached.

He needed something to regulate the Tesseract's output. He couldn't control the artifact and focus on the fission process of the cells at the same time. The thing ate away at him, pulling at his flesh and seiðr with every second he held it until he lost concentration and the bloody thing ripped its way into the battery and burned it from the inside out. Explosively.

If Loki couldn't find a solution, and soon, Thor would have his head. And wouldn't that be ironic? His brother bending over backwards to protect two Jötnar only to bring the hammer of vengeance down on Loki himself.

Oh, how did he always get himself into these absurd situations? Why couldn't his plans turn out well, just for once? Why did they always fall apart around his ears, sending the roof down atop him?

He needed help. He needed someone versed in seiðr to help him wrangle the Tesseract. More specifically, he needed someone versed in seiðr who wouldn't immediately run off to Thor to tell him of Loki's misdeeds. Everyone in Asgard knew of his attempt to conquer Midgard with The Tesseract, and no one would trust him to keep it safe. Thor would rip it away and put it somewhere to be guarded day and night by a retinue of musclebound guards. Probably in a closet or something where it would sit and glow and send its energies out in a wave for anyone who might be listening.

For a very specific someone who was listening.

Loki was the only one who could keep it hidden, hidden from Heimdall, hidden from… others.

He wished his mother were here, she would be able to aid him in this. She'd even keep quiet about his methods, if he asked. Or even Odin! If Odin where here _he_ could keep it hidden. And if he couldn't, at least then Loki would have someone to blame if everything went to shit!

But he didn't have Odin. Or mother.

No, Loki was on his own. As always.

Oh, he was so screwed.

* * *

Zher dame was sleeping. Juri had brewed the both of them some red lichen tea, a special treat they indulged in now and then. Their pouch of the moss was growing light, but Juri had convinced zher dame that they deserved a bit of relaxation after three weeks of constant stress.

And now zher dame was sleeping.

Juri crept to the loosened panel at the edge of their quarters, prying it from the wall with slow and deliberate movements, careful to keep it from clattering to the floor. Wedged in the ductwork beyond was a wrapped package, the blue dress Juri wore to mingle with the Æsir. Zhe had only managed to sneak off a couple times, as Oma still slept fitfully and infrequently. But in those rare instances when Oma did sleep, and sleep deeply, Juri slipped away to the floors above.

Zhe closed zher eyes and focused on the small bones and thin skin of zher Às form, sliding into it with more ease than ever. It was becoming almost second nature, like a well practiced dance. Juri shimmied out of her Jötunn kilts and into her Às dress, hiding the old clothes in the ducks. With one last glance at her snoring dame, she ducked under their room's hangings and into the bay beyond. Hulk was somewhere passed the crates and barrels. She kept an ear cocked for his heavy movements as she tiptoed to the doors. Shuffling and grumbling echoed from the far end of the bay, but no sight of green skin or mussy hair.

With a grin, Juri reached the bay's doors, then—

"Hey there, Kiddo. What're you doing down here?"

Juri tripped and nearly landed face first into Brunnhilde's chest, but the Às woman caught her by the shoulders and returned her to her feet.

"Hey, where are your shoes?" Brunnhilde asked.

"I- I don't-"

"Wait…" The woman looked Juri over, from foot to face. She took Juri by the jaw, turning her head this way and that in an uncompromising grip, then laughed. "Hey! Wow, is that you? Juri?"

She nodded against Brunnhild's grip, shoulders slumping.

"Haha! You're a shapeshifter?" Brunnhilde let go of Juri's face to take a step back and look over the change.

"I- Yes. Yes, I just wanted to see what it was like," she stuttered, holding her arms close about her middle, as if doing so could hide the transformation. "Um, my dame is sleeping. We should be quiet..."

Brunnhilde was smirking at her, her eyes raking across Juri's new form. Seeing Brunnhilde like this, through Às eyes, it was quite apparent Juri's form was lackluster in comparison. She was shorter than the Às, and her skin wasn't nearly as lovely a brown. Maybe with practice she could edge a little closer to Brunnhilde's look, but she'd never get it quite like that.

Brunnhilde nodded, adjusting a satchel she had slung over one shoulder, the sound of bottles clinking within. "So, you just going for a walk around the cargo bays?" The way she said it made it clear Brunnhilde knew that wasn't the case.

"Well, no." Brunnhilde was suspicious. Juri would have to think of something, something bad enough to warrant sneaking off but not so bad as sneaking to the upper levels.

Brunnhilde raised an eyebrow, waiting. Juri's gaze was drawn to the Às' satchel. Brunnhilde often came down to drink with Hulk, the two of them singing loud and tuneless songs long into the night.

"I found a bottle of Setchen Whiskey in one of the broom closets," Juri blurted, the lie spilling out. "I wanted to know what it would be like, drinking it in this form. You won't tell my dame, will you?" Juri whispered, darting a glance towards the sheets hiding her sleeping oma. "Zhe doesn't like me taking this form. But the bottle's too small to do anything when I'm Jotun."

"Uh-huh," Brunnhilde snorted, shaking her head with a grin. "Well, far be it from me to ruin your fun. And, hey, when you're done, feel free to join me and Hulk. He likes you."

"Oh! Oh, thank you. Um..."

"Just an open invite," she reassured, waving Juri's hesitation away. She turned towards the sounds of Hulk's shuffling. "Have fun! Don't get sick!"

"Right. Thanks. And you too," Juri nodded to Brunnhilde's retreating back before darting away.

She couldn't believe that worked! Juri wouldn't stay away long, she didn't want to arouse Brunnhilde's suspicion, but she'd have enough time for at least a couple games of taffle up above.

* * *

Dinner was just winding down as she arrived. Rations were the nutra-bars Juri and her dame had provided, along with a small helping of dried fruit. The fruit was odd, almost too sweet, but after a few bites she found herself growing used to the flavor. They didn't have anything so overwhelmingly sweet on Jötunheim.

Juri found Fjulla with the other youths, braiding strips of cloth into a dainty belt. Weaving was a common hobby amongst the female population of Asgard, and Fjulla had been teaching Juri some new designs. Juri, in turn, had shown her how to braid a tassel in the way her omama (or grandmother, as the Æsir would say) had done. Juri didn't mention that the style was unique to the Fjarðardalur clan, only that it was a family method.

Juri slid down to sit beside Fjulla, waiting for the other girl to notice. Absorbed as she was with her braiding, she remained entirely unaware of Juri's presence. Juri made a game of it, inching closer to Fjulla, slowly, until she sat with her nose nearly touching the other girl's ear. It was only when her breath started to tickle Fjulla's neck that she finally looked up with a start.

"Juri!"

They both laughed and Juri scooted back to a more polite distance.

"How is your braiding?" Juri asked.

"It's good, I think. Would you take a look?"

Juri took the tail of the braid in her hand, admiring the way the rough materials danced to Fjulla's will.

"You incorporated my grandmother's tassels with your mother's knotwork!"

"Yes! You don't mind, do you?"

"No! Of course not! I think it's wonderful." And she did. The geometric Às designs flowed gracefully into her clan's looser threadwork. Juri wondered if her Omama would feel the same.

"My bar looks funny," Gullr, the little blond boy who could never sit still, dropped his nutri-bar with a scowl.

"Just eat it." Ragnar spoke up from where he sat against the wall. He didn't bother to look up from his book.

"No. Oh!" Gullr jumped to his feet as he caught sight of someone across the hall. "Oh! Oh! It's Prince Loki! Look!" He pointed.

Indeed, the prince was making his way to the serving station, head held high and gaze straight ahead. It was strange seeing him as an Às. While he wasn't large by Às standards, he certainly wasn't short. It was quite different from his natural shape, stunted as it was. Juri wondered if he needed to force himself to gain those extra inches in this shape or if it was simply the form his magic fell into.

"Do you think he'll tell us a story?" Gullr didn't ask anyone in particular, still watching the prince cross the hall.

"He looks angry," Juri said. And he did. His brows tight and his jaw tense.

"No he doesn't!" Gullr said.

"You shouldn't bother the prince," Ragnar said. "He's probably busy."

"It's not bothering him. He likes telling stories."

"Ask Matron Marta. She'll tell you to leave him alone."

Gullr puffed out his cheeks but did just that, bounding over the other children to the severe looking Matron, the one in charge of all the ship's orphans. Most of the children in this corner of the hall were without family. The children who still had theirs seemed to avoid those who didn't. Juri had asked once why. Ragnar thought they were afraid of them, as if dead parents was something you could catch. Fjulla was kinder, thinking they may just not know what to say.

Gullr returned from the Matron with a deep frown, flopping to the floor with his arms crossed.

"What'd she say?" Ragnar drawled, turning another page.

"To wait 'till he's done eating."

"How dreadful."

"Does he often tell you stories?" Juri asked.

"Sometimes," Fjulla said, picking at a loose thread in her braiding. "I guess he used to perform epics at feasts in the palace. We never got to go to those, though."

"He tells the best stories!" Gullr announced, his pouting forgotten. "He uses magic to make it come to life! Like this!" Gullr jumped back to his feet, miming some great battle. His whooshing sound effects were accompanied with a fine spray of spittle.

"Really?" Juri asked absently, wiping spray from her forehead. Her dame used to make ice sculptures when telling Juri bedtime stories, little worgs and Jötunn warriors, but they never moved. Once, as the winter gave way to the light snows of spring, a caravan came through in time for the Equinox Festival. One of the performers had used the flames of the great bonfire to create fleeting pictures of dancers and monsters and long dead heroes. Juri had tried to do the same that night and had burnt her fingers quite thoroughly.

Gullr was in the throws of an epic fight for his life against an invisible beast, but Fjulla picked up where he left off.

"The Prince is a very skilled seiðrmaster. Probably the best in Asgard. When he weaves illusions you can hardly tell they're not real, they're so vivid and lifelike."

Ragnar made kissy sounds from behind his book.

Fjulla turned to slap her brother's leg. "They are!"

"Tell Juri about his voice. How _sonorous_ it is."

"Shut up!" Fjulla slapped him more vigorously, her cheeks red. Ragnar fended her off with a foot, smacking his lips in a sloppy imitation of kissing.

Juri laughed, watching the two siblings wrestle. It ended with Fjulla on top of her brother, whacking his covered head as he chuckled into his arms. When she slid off of him, with one last smack, Juri asked, "So you like him? You don't mind that he's Jötunn?"

Juri hadn't spent much time amoung the Æsir, but even still had heard a few less than kind things said about her people. And about her, specifically. She'd overheard at least one man who wanted to 'throw the two Jötunn stowaways out an airlock.'

Fjulla paused, glancing at Juri from lowered eyes, then turned to fixing her mussed hair. Ragnar's expression, too, had changed, looking uncomfortable.

"Well," Fjulla said, "he's not really Jötunn."

"What do you mean?" Juri asked. Was her dame right, that his blue skin had been a trick?

"Well, I mean, he was born a Jötunn, but that doesn't matter. He's Às where it counts." Fjulla was playing with her hands, her cheeks growing redder.

"Where it counts?"

"Yeah, you know. In heart and mind. He's smart and brave and he saved us when Asgard…" Fjulla's words grew tight. She took a breath and finished, "he saved us. He's Às in his heart."

"So," Juri said, chest tight. "He's not Jötunn because he's smart and brave."

"Look," said Ragnar, his voice steady and low. "Loki is still our prince, Jötunn or not. If you have a problem with that, I think you should keep it to yourself."

"That's- That's not-" Juri's voice snagged in her throat. She hadn't known Fjulla and Ragnar long, but in that time they'd been kind and funny and friendly. That they thought so little of her people… Juri knew tensions between the Jötnar and Æsir were high, but it still hurt. "That's not what I meant. I meant, you can be Jötunn and be smart and brave. Æsir don't have a monopoly on good traits, you know."

"Well, yes. Of course some are," Fjulla said, gesturing to where Loki was taking his meal.

"Most are!"

The siblings didn't know how to respond to that, staring at Juri in confusion.

"I just…" She shouldn't have lost her temper, she couldn't give herself away. What could she say to get her point across without revealing her ruse? "My Om—my mother, she traveled a lot when I was young. We met some Jötnar, here and there, and they aren't stupid or cowards. They're people, just like you. They're… I don't know. I just don't like how Æsir are always making them out like they're animals."

Fjulla was quiet for a time. "Sorry." Then, "have you really met a Frost Giant?"

"No she hasn't," Ragnar said, slouching against the wall.

"I have," Juri said, voice hard.

"What are they like?" Fjulla asked.

"They're… Uh, well, big."

Ragnar snorted. Juri glared at the boy. She continued with more conviction.

"Their warriors shave their heads and bind their horns to grow low against their skulls so there's nothing to grab in a fight. And their food is purer. You never put meat in with vegetables or mix two sorts of meat. Doing so is unclean."

"How is it unclean?" Ragnar asked. He still looked unconvinced, but was listening.

"Well, because meat goes bad much faster than vegetables, doesn't it? And fish goes bad faster than meat. If you mix them then one half of the dish might go bad before you finish."

"Well, you shouldn't leave food lying around to go bad."

"They don't leave it 'lying around!' They just store it separately."

"Are they scary?" Fjulla asked.

"No. I mean…" Juri gave the question a bit of thought. She supposed a Jötunn would be scary to someone half their height. "A bit intimidating. But it's not that bad."

"Guys!" Gullr bounded into their circle, scattering Fjulla's pile of cloth scraps. "He said yes! But Marta says we gotta get ready for bed first! Come on, come on!"

He hopped over to the next group of children with his announcement, pulling the smaller kids to their feet as he went.

"Are you going to come too?" Fjulla asked as she gathered up her project. She grinned as she added, "maybe Prince Loki will tell a Frost Giant story."

"Oh, I'm not sure. I don't want my mother to worry…"

"You don't have to stay for the whole thing."

Juri chewed her lip. She really couldn't stay long. There was no telling when her dame would wake. And she felt a bit weird right now, even if Fjulla had apologized. _(She hadn't really understood why she was apologizing, Juri knew.)_ But she was curious. Curious how Prince Loki managed to win the hearts of the Æsir, and curious about his seiðr. It sounded like his methods were quite different from anything she'd seen on Jötunheim. Maybe she could learn a thing or two.

"All right. For a bit."

Fjulla smiled.

* * *

Loki was tired and frustrated and hungry. The evening's rations were meant for someone who'd been lounging about the ship all day, not a seiðrmastr who'd spent the last three hours wrestling with an unruly artifact of unlimited power. He wanted to go to bed.

Or punch something.

The little boy had been so earnest, though. And it had been a while since Loki had paid the children's hall a visit. It could be nice to spend time on silly tales instead of draining chores.

When he arrived, the children had already arranged themselves in a semi-circle about his usual seat. The converted cargo bay was a little warmer now than it had been last month. The plastic sheets and packing supplies had been traded in for proper bedding, courtesy of yours truly. The lights shown a bit more brightly, too, and the heating vents were a bit more generous in their warmth. (Thor had announced they could warm the ship more fully now that they had fuel to spare. Loki had nearly bit his tongue off at that.)

He took his place upon a short crate, a smile on his face as the children's attention fell to him.

"All right, what are we in the mood for tonight?"

"Something with dragons!" A young voice called out.

"No! A love story!" Another shouted.

"Tell the one about the fisherman!"

A dozen voices filled the bay as Loki tapped his chin in thought. Settling on a tale, he raised his hands for quiet. "All right, all right! Have any of you heard of the loyal hound and his missing master?" Murmurs of 'no' met his ears.

And so he began.

* * *

Fjulla had spoken true, his magic was mesmerizing. In his tale a small worg, a hound, journeyed from land to land in search of his Às companion, traveling through woods and deserts, across seas and stars, and as Prince Loki told his tale the people and places came to life, glowing gently in miniature above their heads. The hound bounded through the room, sometimes dipping low to wend between heads and shoulders before springing back into the air.

And Fjulla was right, he did have a nice voice.

It was hard to pull her gaze away from the light and spectacle, but Juri made a point to watch the mage now and then. She sat towards the back, with the older children, but she could just make out the slight flicks of his fingers and twists of his wrists, directing the puppets in their dance. His movements were subtle and infrequent. It seemed his hands should be a constant blur, giving commands to the illusions twirling about the bay. But his conjured creatures seemed able to act on their own, only needing a slight nudge here and there when the story took a turn.

Was he controlling them some other way?

Juri glanced to her own hands. She'd never tried this sort of magic. Was it at all like Thermoturgy? The illusions were made of light and what better way to create light than through fire?

The hound sniff through the hair of a young girl near the front. She giggled, turning this way and that to catch sight of the little beast.

No. It wasn't fire. So what was it?

Juri watched the prince's hands, paying special attention when he conjured a new image, mimicking the movements.

* * *

The tale was coming to a close, the brave hound digging through an avalanche to rescue his clumsy master, when a glimmer caught Loki's eye. He didn't pause in his story but he scanned the crowd for the light's source.

A girl he didn't recognize sat in the back, flicking her hands in a clumsy attempt at conjuring. Her form was stiff and her movements unpracticed, but a spark of light lit up her fingers before fizzling out.

Who was that?

 _" 'Oh thank you!' the master said, kissing the hound full on the snout!"_ Loki recited. A chorus of 'eww's' rose from the gathered children as the illusion gave the hound a wet smooch. _" 'From now on, you'll have steak and mutton every night and your bed will sit closest to the fire! For you are a true companion and the bravest hound to ever walk the lands!' The end."_

With a wave of his hands the illusions dispersed, sprinkling the children with winking lights. He nudge one sparkling flake to land on the strange girl's nose. She blinked, looking up from her hands with a wide smile. A familiar smile…

The Jötunn brat!

Loki forced his expression to remain easy and light, but watched the changeling from the corner of his vision. It's features were softened in this form, its cheeks a little rounder and its limbs a little fuller, but the underlying structure of its jaw, its nose, the shape of its eyes, those were the same. It even wore its hair in those same braids, though they were now auburn instead of snow white.

Did it think him stupid? That he wouldn't notice? Or was it simply too dull to consider the possibility?

"Tell us another story!"

"Yes, another!"

"Another story?" He murmured. "Hmm…"

He pretended to think as the children shouted suggestions again.

Thor hadn't expressly forbidden the Jötnar from walking the Æsir's floors, but that the brat would do so, even in a borrowed form, was a bold insult. What did it hope to accomplish? Was it here to pilfer supplies? To probe the Æsir's weaknesses? It walked with Asgard's orphaned children. Did it think to steal one away?

"All right," Loki said. "How many of you have heard tell of Sigurd and the One Eyed Giant?" None of them had. It was a tale he would spin as he spoke. "Well, then. Listen close, and you may just learn a thing or two."

As he spoke, he made a point not to look directly at the Jötunn brat, only glancing now and then when it was distracted by his dancing simulacrums— which was not often. More than not, the changeling watched Loki, eyes bright and focused.

 _"And Sigurd raised his blade and spake: 'I have come to end your wicked reign, Giant!' And so great was his conviction, and so terrible his glare, that the Giant fell to its knees. 'Please,' it begged, 'if you spare my life I will show you to my treasure! You will have more riches than all the Dwarves of Svartalfheim combined."_

The brat was watching his hands. Looking to his spellcasting.

 _"Sigurd agreed to spare the Giant's life and the beast lead him northward to the edge of a sprawling swamp. But when Sigurd set foot in the mud, a serpent rose to greet him, fangs gleaming in the marsh-light. The snake struck but Sigurd was faster, leaping back to solid ground, much to the Giant's disappointment._

 _" 'Villain!' cried our hero. 'You thought to feed me to these wyrms?'_

 _" 'Of course not,' the Giant squirmed under Sigurd's steely stare. 'The danger must have slipped my mind. A moment, please. I will craft you boots of heather to keep the serpent's sting at bay.' "_

 _And so the Giant did, and so our hero crossed the swamp. Once on solid ground again, he asked, 'now where is this treasure?'_

 _And the Giant replied, ' 'tis only a little further.'"_

The changeling twisted its hands, sparks of pale light following the movement before sputtering out. It frowned and Loki hurried to look away as the brat turned its attention back to him.

It was mimicking his casting. Did the creature honestly believe itself capable of mastering Asgard's Arts, sitting on the floor of this rundown wreck?

 _"And as he climbed the soaring cliffside, a flock of falcons descended upon him, raking at his scalp and back._

 _" 'Villain!' cried our hero. 'Planned you to see me thrown from the mountain by these raptors?'_

 _" 'Of course not,' the Giant frowned, sweat upon its brow. 'I will fashion you a helmet made of quartz to keep their talons at bay.'_

 _And so the Giant did, and so our hero climbed the cliff. Once on the ledge above he asked, 'now where is this treasure?'_

 _And the Giant replied, ' 'tis only a little further.'"_

The Jötunn was still trying to bring its small sparks to life, pulling them into swirling strings about its fingers. It would never manage a proper image like this. Loki had spent a thousand years mastering this art, he had a millennium of tools and tricks to make his simulacrums do as he wished. The brat was trying to run before it had learned to walk.

But...

Loki slowed his hands, exaggerating the movements just a bit, walking through the dance with an exaggerated deliberation.

 _" 'Villain!' cried our hero. 'Did you seek to bind me with these thorns?'_

 _" 'Of course not,' the Giant wheedled. 'I will fashion you a breastplate made of barks to keep their prickers at bay.'"_

A spark caught and grew, becoming something almost like a shadow, featureless and vague, but with some base form. The brat smiled.

It had some talent…

 _" 'Villain!' cried our hero. 'Did you think to drown me in these pools?'_

 _" 'Of course not,' the Giant sighed. 'I will fashion you a spear made of coral to keep their tentacles at bay.'"_

The mushy form limped across the changelings palm, four 'legs' moving with all the grace of a drunken horse. But it was something.

The whelp didn't have skill, no, but that could be learned. No skill, but it had ability, the raw talent necessary to pull energy from its veins and shape it to its will. And if it could channel the energy necessary for an illusion—poorly formed though it was—then there was no reason to think it couldn't channel external energy as well.

The brat looked up, its grin nearly as bright as the illusion slowly losing shape in its hands. Loki smirked back, meeting the changeling's eyes for the first time. The Jötunn's expression dimmed some under Loki's unblinking gaze.

Time for a lesson.

 _" 'Here,' the Giant said. 'As promised, my treasure for my life.'_

 _"But the Giants hoard was nothing more than bones and rocks, polished and displayed as if they were gold and jewels, as if they were anything more than trash and offal._

 _"Enraged, Sigurd turned his coral spear upon the Giant and struck. The beast howled in pain and swept a dirty claw at our hero's chest, but the bark armor turned its strike aside. Sigurd stabbed the beast again and the giant bellowed, bringing a stone down upon our hero's head, but his quartz helmet deflected the blow. Sigurd stabbed the beast a third time and it fell to the ground. With the last bits of its strength it kicked out at our hero's legs, but the heather boots absorbed the blow._

 _"Sigurd stabbed the beast once more and with that it died, its blood painting the bones and stones of its hoard a crimson red. But with those drops of blood the useless trinkets were transformed into glittering rubies. The Giant had kept its promise after all, even if unintentionally."_

The illusions burst in a wash of red, dripping down to disappear just before the crowns of the children below. The Jötunn's own illusion had dispersed, the changeling watching wide eyed as the conjured monster had been slain.

"Tell me, children, what is the moral of our tale?" Loki asked, gaze sweeping across their delighted faces.

"Be prepared for anything!" Trinka exclaimed.

"Good equipment is important." Ullie said, his hand raised politely.

"Never trust a Giant!" Gullr yelled.

"The moral," Loki explained, eyes landing on the Changeling. "Always be useful, less someone make use _of_ you."

The children murmured amongst themselves. It was not a very straightforward moral, not something most of them need concern themselves with. But the moral wasn't meant for them.

* * *

Marta clapped her hands and announced it was time for bed. The children groaned and complained but pulled out their sleeping things and claimed their patches of floor. Some younger boys shouted and laughed, pretending to stab dishonest Giants as the Matron tried to settle them down. Juri kept out of their way as she slipped out the bay's doors.

Prince Loki had seen her, had recognized her, and his smile had not been kind.

Fjulla hopped into the hallway, bright eyes landing on Juri. "How did you do that?" She asked.

"What?"

"I saw you! You made an image just like the Prince. A little dog!"

"No, I just- I wanted to see if I could. I need to go." Juri hugged herself, keeping a distance from the other girl. From the Às.

"But how did you do it?"

"Yes," another joined them, tall and smirking as he leaned against the door. "How did you do it?"

Fjulla muffled a squeak at the Prince's appearance, her cheeks growing red.

"I was just… I, I watched you."

"And have you trained in seiðr before?" he asked, his eyes flickering across her borrowed form. She didn't know why he asked. He could see she had.

"Yes."

"Who trained you?"

"My omama—I mean, my grandmother."

He hummed. Pushing off the door, and approached with a lazy stroll. "Does your mother know you're here?"

"No." Juri was finding it difficult to speak up, her voice barely escaping her tight throat. Fjulla's earlier embarrassment was turning to confusion.

"Tch, tch. Won't she be worried? Perhaps we best get you back, before she dies of heartache." He placed a hand upon her arm, turning her towards the elevators down the hall.

Juri sent one glance behind her to see Fjulla's uncertain wave goodbye.

Prince Loki didn't speak again until the elevator's doors had closed and the platform began to descend.

"Have you told anyone?" When Juri didn't immediately respond, he elaborated. "What you are?"

"No."

"And what did you hope to accomplish, sneaking about in the halls above?"

"Nothing."

He raised a brow.

"I was just curious…"

"So you thought to prowl amongst the Æsir for… fun, is it? Just because you could?"

She didn't respond.

"You know, of course, had you been found out your blood would now be painting the walls. The Æsir do not take kindly to Jötnar tricks."

"I just thought, I mean, because they know you are-"

He slammed a fist against the control panel. A blast of green light filled the room and the lift jerked to a halt. Juri stumbled and fell against a wall as Prince Loki snarled, magic crawling over his outstretched arm and across his shoulder, shimmering like the air around a flame.

"I have earned my place here," he growled. "I have built, and fought, and bled for Asgard and her peoples. Every man, woman, child, and beast on this ship owes me their very lives! And what have you done? Scraped together a few tasteless morsels to bribe your way into our good graces." He drew a hissing breath in through his teeth. "What use are you? What can you possibly offer to justify your existence on MY ship?"

Another resounding bang and the lift began its descent once more. Loki turned from her, throwing his hair back with a jerk of his head, folding his arms behind his back.

What had she done? What had she done to infuriate him so?

The doors dinged open and Juri scuttled out. The Prince didn't follow, but held the doors to keep them from closing, watching her as she shivered in the drafty corridor.

"Their hatred of you and your mother will not die," he said. "It will build, and, some time soon, they will storm these halls and cry out for your lives. What will you offer them?"

She shook her head. She didn't know. She had nothing to give.

"As I thought." He sniffed. His earlier fury was tamped down. Were she Às, she might say he looked bored. But the Jötnar were not so obvious in their expressions and the slight tightening of the muscles in his neck showed the tension that still thrummed through his body. "I have a proposition. A way to make yourself useful. Do this for me, and I will turn away their ire when it comes."

"What is it?"

"Your seiðr. Clumsy as you are, I think you may be of assistance to me. Have you experience channeling foreign energies?"

Of course. That was the very core of Thermoturgy.

She nodded.

"Good," he said. "I will fetch you tomorrow evening."

"W-wait! My dame. Zhe doesn't know. Zhe'd never let me leave the lower holds. And, ah, zhe doesn't much trust you, either."

"She sleeps?"

"Yes."

"Hm." He thought for a moment. "I'll take care of it. Just be ready. Tomorrow. Midnight. Agreed?"

Juri nodded.

"Excellent!" And he smiled a less than kind smile. Stepping back into the elevator, he tapped a button and called through the closing doors, "pleasant dreams, child."

Juri waited until the sound of the lift faded into the floors above before she ran, bare feet slapping against the cold metal of the corridors.

Her dame was right, the Æsir were cruel and hateful. And Prince Loki was an Às at heart.


	5. Chapter 5

_"The King looks tired."_

 _"Can you blame him?"_

 _"No."_

 _"I saw him the other day, in that hallway near section C3. He was alone, looking out at the stars. I couldn't see his face, but his breathing was hard."_

 _"We have all lost much."_

 _"Yes."_

* * *

"We haven't been able to pinpoint the source of the interference. It hasn't caused any major issues, but it would be good to locate the source and shut off whatever is causing it." Trikertik drew his clawed finger through the air, sending the central hologram into a lazy spin.

Thor nodded, making a note on his tablet. "I will assign someone to locate the signal. Is there anything else?" He glanced around the conference table, clearly hoping there wasn't.

"Ah," Lulu raised her webbed hand, catching Thor's attention. "Our engineers have been unable to locate the spare power cells Prince Loki obtained on Vertex."

"Is that so?" Thor asked, turning to his brother. Loki was slouched on Thor's blind side where he was able to make mocking expressions as The King talked.

"Yes, I am aware of the situation," Loki said, studying his nails. They were getting a bit long. "Not to worry, I believe I know where they were misplaced, somewhere in the lower holds. I'll be fetching them tonight."

If all went well, he'd have a couple fully charged cells come morning. With the Jötunn brat acting as a funnel, he should be able to turn all of his focus on reigniting the ship's spent fusion cells.

"That's good," Lulu said. "I'll have Trikertik help you bring them up."

"Don't bother." He waved a hand. "I'd rather not risk you losing them again. Or have them dropped down a trash chute or some other such thing."

The Sakaaran representative chuffed at Loki's casual dismissal, her neck frills turning an irritated orange.

 _"Be nice,"_ his brother muttered, low enough the rest of the table would not hear. Loki kicked his ankle. Thor kicked back.

"Well then," Kvathi said, swiping his hand across the conference table's interface inset. The hologram at the room's center collapsed into neat little folders which were summarily dismissed. "I believe that concludes today's meeting. Unless there's anything else-" he began to stand, clearly expecting no response, but Valkyrie raised her hand.

"Loki made one of the Jötnar cry."

Loki spread his hands, confused and irritated by the accusation. "What?"

"The young one, Juri. I heard you talking to her last night. Didn't hear what you said but I'm pretty sure she cried."

"Who cares?"

The members of Thor's council were standing about the meeting room, most halfway to the door. None of them looked terribly keen to stay and hear whatever childish gibbing Valkyrie was preparing to engage in. Thor dismissed them with a tired wave.

"What is this about?" Thor asked, leaning on a fist. He didn't look any happier to stay.

"What I said. I'd been visiting with Hulk-"

"Drinking, more like," Loki drawled.

"And on my way back I heard them. Loki buggered off before I got there, but Juri ran by like the hounds of Hel were on her tail."

"It- _She-"_ Loki corrected with no small amount of contempt. "-was poking about the elevators. I told her to scurry on back to her mother before someone less patient came by and took her head."

"Dick."

"Wench."

Thor groaned. "Loki, please don't threaten the Jötnar."

" 'Twasn't a threat," he said. "Are you so naive to think our warriors wouldn't jump at the chance to slay the beasts? If she wanders out of bounds she puts herself _and_ her mother in danger."

It was true, even if Loki's concern wasn't.

Valkyrie saw his slithering words for what they were. "Yeah, I'm sure that'd just tear you up inside."

"Well, they _are_ my guests, as you were so kind to point out last week." He sent her a smile that couldn't be construed as sincere even by his brain-dead brother.

And he didn't care to conceal his vitriol. He was certain Valkyrie knew the brat was sneaking off to the floors above, and she hadn't said anything about it. He wouldn't be surprised if she were encouraging it just to get under Loki's skin.

Thor stood, stretching his spine with a grimace. Sitting through meeting after meeting was wearing on him. Loki was surprised Thor had been managing as well as he had. He hadn't brained a single person in the months since being crowned king, though he often looked as if he'd like to.

"You are right, Loki, that it is best they do not give our warriors reason to pick a fight. But I still ask you to be kinder with your warnings."

Loki wasn't sure if he should be pleased Thor was heading his advice or annoyed by the reprimand. He chose the later.

"They're not hurting anyone," Valkyrie said, swiveling in her chair as Thor passed.

"Yes, but I have been fielding requests for their execution since they arrived." And at that, Thor threw his brother an irritated glance. Loki returned his attention to his nails. "Though I will see justice done if any of our people harm them, I would rather avoid conflict if possible."

"This is bullshit," Valkyrie spat, stomping to her feet. She pushed passed Thor and out of the meeting room.

Thor sighed, one hand on his hip and the other running through his shorn locks.

"My job would be a lot easier in this if you were not riling the citizens' fear, Brother." He did not look at Loki as he spoke.

"Would it?"

"Yes."

"Hm."

Thor sighed, pacing back through the room and to the bank of windows at the other end.

"Do you know, I have not slept more than five hours in a night since we left?"

Loki had not known, but he was not surprised. He had not been sleeping well either.

"Everyday it's something new. The Aquatic Sakaarans need more water. Sigfield's son is sick from bad rations. The hull on the upper port-side is leaking atmosphere. Luthr and the Vagrison brothers have declared a blood duel. Miek has started a gambling ring on the third floor. It's never ending. And you-" He turned, flinging an angry hand Loki's way. "Telling stories of slaying Jötnar. Reminding veterans of those they lost in the war. Whispering 'concerns' into parents ears so they might fear for their children. Why?"

"I do believe we've discussed this already."

At length. Many times. Was Thor deaf as well as braindead?

"Yes, but why? What do you hope to gain?"

"Gain? Some piece of mind, perhaps? Keeping such pets about is a dangerous game." Loki shrugged. "But I can see you are unswayed and my efforts wasted. Fear not, I'll keep these musings to myself henceforth." At least, for as long as he had use of the Jötunn youth.

Thor looked as if he was chewing something tough and unpleasant as he stared his brother down.

"What?" Loki asked.

"I think there is more you are not saying."

"Oh?" Loki drawled. He kept his expression unconcerned. "Do tell."

"I think..." Thor sighed, Loki was getting tired of all the sighing, and crossed his arms. "I think you fear them, though not for what they may do. No, I believe you fear that our people will see you in them. You would rather they disappear and, with them, all thoughts of your true nature."

Oh, how wise Thor must feel right now. How grand and kingly. Loki ran his tongue along the edges of his teeth, feeling the need to bite something, with words if nothing else. "And what is that 'true nature,' Thor?"

"Your Jötunn nature."

"And what is the nature of a Jötunn?"

Thor, seeing where this was going, set his jaw.

"What is it?"

"Loki..."

"What is it, Thor?"

Thor shook his head, refusing to answer, but the word hung thick between them.

 _Monstrous._

Thor sighed yet again, letting his hands fall loose at his sides. "I have duties to attend to. I imagine you do as well."

Loki leaned back in his seat, mouth a thin line as Thor left. The quiet hum of machinery filled the conference room in his absence.

Monsters. Useful monsters, but monsters nonetheless. He would use them, and then discard them, as one did with such beasts.

It was their rightful place.

* * *

He waited until after midnight to head to the lower hold. Those few people still awake lounged about, playing card games or trading gossip over weak tea. There would be no one working the engine rooms so late, no one carting goods from storage to the meal hall.

A chill traveled up his spine as he stepped from the lift. There was no need to heat this level, the Beast was unaffected by the cold and the Giants certainly didn't mind. It was darker down here, too. With no workers walking the halls, the overheads had been turned off for the night. Only the safety lights lining the walkways and the dim glow of control panels lit the way.

Loki sniffed and straightened his leathers, picking his way to the main cargo bay. He saw no sign of the younger Jötunn in the halls, but a shadow moved when he entered the loading bay. She sat by the double doors to The Hulk's lair, leaning against the jam, but stood as he approached, blue skin pale in the dim hold.

Loki stopped some paces away, eying the slight gap between the doors. "Is your… mother awake?"

 _"Yes."_ She kept her voice low, just loud enough to be heard over the ever-present hum of distant engines. Like this, as a Jötunn, her voice was deeper and lacking in inflection. Hard to believe this creature was female.

"Hm, very well. Turn about," he said, twirling a finger.

The Jötunn blinked then did as instructed, though she kept her eyes on him as long as she could, straining her neck and turning to face him again quickly.

"All right," Loki said, "now repeat after me:

 _"Wealth is a comfort to every man,_  
 _"_ _yet every man must divide it mightily,_ _  
_ _"_ If he wishes to have the measurer's mercy."

"Why?" The Jötunn's brow crinkled slightly.

"Why must he divide it or why must you repeat after me?"

"The latter."

"Because I need to learn the cadence of your voice, otherwise I will be unable to recreate it accurately. Now, repeat after me: _Wealth is a comfort to every man."_

" _Wealth is a comfort to every man..."_

Loki lead the Jötunn through the rune poem one stanza at a time until he felt he had the feel of her speech. He then asked her how she addressed her mother _(Oma. Or 'My Dame,' if I'm in trouble.)_ as well as where and how she typically slept _(Beside my dame. On my side, I suppose.)_

"Hm, well, you're a youth, aren't you? You'll be throwing a tantrum and sleeping on the other side of the bay tonight."

Before the Giant could ask what he meant, Loki drew power from his core, weaving it into a replica of the Jötunn. The simulacrum stood in an easy slouch, a contrast to the original's stiff shock. The Jötunn reached out a hand, fingers passing through the illusion's arm with a crackle of light.

"Stop it," Loki reprimanded and the Jötunn drew her hand back as if stung.

He studied the copy, adjusting details to better match the living being beside it, then infused it with a simple will. It turned, slipping through the doors and into the hold beyond. It would sit by itself, sulking and expelling teenage angst at anyone who tried to speak with it.

The girl watched her double through the doors, eyes wide.

 _"How do you do that?"_ She whispered.

"Magic. Now change forms and follow me."

She scowled at him (Loki made note of the expression, sending an adjustment to the simulacrum before it wandered out of range) and began to shift. Halfway through Loki realized she was shifting only her form and not her clothes and hastily turned his gaze.

 _Did the Jötnar have no sense of decency?_

When she was finished (and dressed) he lead them through the ship towards the engine rooms. The path they took was largely abandoned, but there were a couple Sakaarans whispering in an alcove along one hallway. They waved at him as he passed and he returned with a quick smile. The changeling hurried at his heels, sneaking glances back at the aliens.

"Do you know them?"

"I'm their leader," he answered with an amused cock of his head.

"Not Thor?"

"I recruited the Sakaarans and obtained this ship. Thor's here by my leave."

That was mostly true. Ostensibly, Loki was in charge of the Sakaaran passengers. In practice, he let them alone and only intervened when necessary. Or when bored. Thor did give them more orders than Loki himself, though most of those orders went ignored.

"I heard something about the Battle Of Asgard," the girl said, "From Brunnhilde and Hulk. Though Hulk's telling is a little confusing."

"Mm, well, he spent most of it swimming."

"It was King Thor's sister, wasn't it? Who attacked?"

Loki nodded.

"Why?"

Loki shrugged. "She was a death-crazed maniac with a grudge."

"But she was his sister."

"Well, Thor has a way of enticing murderous thoughts," he growled. They'd come to the engine rooms and Loki keyed into the passcode for the doors. They slid open, spilling wet heat into the corridor. He waved the girl in, but she simply stood, staring at him.

"What?"

"Murderous thoughts?"

"Yes."

"Have you had these 'murderous thoughts?'"

"A little. Now come."

"What do you mean 'a little?'" Her voice squeaked on the question. "Aren't you blood-brothers?"

"Technically, we never took that oath. And in any case, _most_ of Thor's friends have made attempts on his life. He invites it."

Also mostly true. Volstagg had never made any attempts, and the others had never taken it as far as Loki, but Sif had certainly come close.

"You try to kill your king?!"

"He was a prince at the time, and stop looking so shocked. He survived, didn't he? Now," Loki pointed through the open door, brows raised in exasperation. "Go."

The child stepped through, taking the clanging stairs slowly. She clearly felt uncomfortable having her back to him, but was doing an admirable job keeping her gaze ahead.

Loki had to duck steaming pipework on the descent and his leathers grew uncomfortably warm in the heated air. The girl was sweating, the hair of her temples growing slick, the back of her blue dress growing dark with damp. He suspected the heat was worse for her, having little experience outside Jotenheim's climate.

The central generator was a great column in the middle of the room, lined with glowing power cells and a mosaic of buttons, switches, and lights. Loki lead them along the catwalk and down more stairs to the bottom floor where the used cells sat stacked in haphazard piles. He grabbed one up, tossing the disk in his hand.

"Have you any experience channeling foreign energies?"

She stood awkwardly, staring at him with a stupid expression.

He huffed in irritation. "That is, harnessing power from something outside yourself to use for your-"

"Of course," she interrupted. "How else would I make ice?"

Ah, yes, that would fit the description, wouldn't it? The Jötnar drew heat into themselves for warmth and, as a side effect, were able to create and manipulate ice. Loki didn't care for the brat's tone, though.

"This will be considerably more complicated than making a little slush," he sneered. He held up the spent power cell. "You see this? These fuel the ship. Without them, there is no thrust, no light, and no life support. I have a power source capable of recharging them, but it is exceedingly volatile. This power source draws from the weft and weave of space itself, the tensions between dimensions and the pull of planets and stars upon the fabric of reality. Quite simply, it takes the weight of the universe and converts it into pure energy.

"Even with my centuries of training, this Source is too much for me to wield alone. That's where you come in."

Loki tossed her the spent cell, frowning as she fumbled to catch it.

"I need you to help me funnel its power into these fuel cells. If we pour too much in at once, the cell will overload, rendering it useless."

"What happens when it overloads?" She asked, eyeing the cell like it might explode."

"It might explode."

She held the cell further from her body.

"Or it might just smoke and melt and cause an unpleasant stink. Either way, we're out a receptacle and no closer to our goal." Loki clapped his hands and brought them down to point at the girl. "So don't screw it up. Let's get started."

He had her stand back as he arranged their workspace. He summoned his ritual mat, already lined with runes and sigils, and cleaned a space on the floor to place it. The mat's runes sparked with static, the residual energies from his previous sessions with The Cube. He placed an assortment of powdered metals and glass in their appropriate nodes, materials to conduct and dampen as appropriate, then beckoned the girl over and to lay the cell in the mat's center. He knelt opposite her.

"Right, hold your hands here- No, no! Don't move, you must maintain the proper distance from the receptacle below. Yes. Now, I will summon the power source. You will feed its energies to me, little by little, holding back as much of it as you can. Better to do this too slowly than too fast."

The girl nodded, biting her lower lip.

"All right. On three. One, two-"

He summoned the Tesseract forth, setting it to hover above the girl's hands.

"Do you have it?" he asked. She nodded again, squinting against it's cold light. Loki took his hands away and she gasped as the full power of the Tesseract drove into her palms.

"Good, now hold-"

But the energy was too much for the whelp and she yank her hands away with a squeal. Loki dove forward, snatching The Cube before it could impact the power cell. It flared in his grasp, it's energies digging their way into his flesh and singeing it from the inside out, and he shoved it back into his dimensional pocket with a howl.

"Dammit, girl!" He shouted, wringing his hands. The wild power had snapped up his forearms, surging along the ley lines beneath his skin, heating them like electrified wires.

"Sorry! I'm sorry! I couldn't hold it!" She had her own arms clasped against her belly, her eyes squeezed shut and leaking.

He yelled, surging to his feet and kicking the fuel cell into the central generator where it bounced and, luckily, did not explode. He ran his tingling hands through his hair, breathing through his teeth, until he could stand to look at the little brat.

"We will try again."

"I don't think I can do it. I'm sorry, it's too much. It's like holding fire."

"It's perfectly possible to hold fire if you put your feeble mind to it!"

The girl shook her head, not in denial, but out of hopelessness. "I-I know. But I've never been all that skilled at Thermoturgy. Perhaps my dame. Zhe knows how to wield fire-"

"This _isn't_ fire! This is seiðr of the highest order. Can your dame bend the cosmos to her will?"

"Of course not-"

"Then she is of no use to me!"

"But I can't either!"

"Then you're useless too!" He shouted down at her hunched form.

What use was the Jötunn brat if she couldn't so much as hold the bloody thing, let alone temper its flow? He may as well ask for Thor's inelegant aid, to spew the Tesseract's energy about like a high pressure hose and hope some of it landed where he needed.

A deep breath, then another. He forced his himself to calm.

No. The girl was unskilled but not without talent. She was capable of shifting, which required a great deal of knowledge of one's own body and magics. And he'd seen her weave basic illusions, which required skill in energy manipulations. She was a novice and couldn't have been more than six hundred years old. What's more, she'd had no instruction in Ás or Elf magics, only the backwards knowledge of the Jötnar. He shouldn't be surprised she'd failed. It would have been a shock had she not.

This would take longer than he'd hoped.

"What training have you had?" He asked, forcing away the bite in his tone. "Clearly you've had some, to change your shape as you do."

The girl sniffed, still clutching herself as she knelt on the floor. "My Omama taught me. Zhe was a shifter, too. And my Oma teaches me Thermoturgy, but I'm not as good at it."

"And what of illusions? I've seen you do some things with light."

She shrugged. "That was the first I tried it."

He sighed. "So that's it? A bit of shifting and heat magic?"

"I- I know a couple spells to find things, or track animals. And I can make a plant grow better over a season."

"There are many ways to do those things. What schools of magic do you utilize?"

She gave a helpless shrug. The Jötunn beasts must not approach magic instruction with much organization.

"All right, then tell me, what does it feel like to grow a plant?"

"It feels…" she thought for a moment, clearly unnerved by his earlier outburst. "It feels like touching it. On the inside. Like the plant is made of little rivers and I'm redirecting them to flow better. I have to be careful though, because it's easy to break them and then the plant will wilt or die." She glanced up at him, judging his response. Her shoulders loosened at his calm expression and thoughtful nod.

"Good. Yes, I would say that falls under the purview of healing magic."

Loki began to pace. He didn't have much experience as an instructor. Mostly he'd been a student or a peer, discussing magic with those as skilled or more so than himself. When he began to outpace his tutors in Asgard, his mother had sent him to Alfheim for more in depth instruction. When he'd outpaced the other students he had been paired with the brightest amongst the institute for personal instruction by the dean. He'd never before had reason to slow his thoughts or theories for lesser minds.

He'd never had a lesser mind interested in listening.

He tapped a finger against his lips, thinking. "Imagine those rivers infuse all of creation, for they do. In different flavors, in different colors and intensities, but always present. Even the empty air holds currents of power." He reached out, feeling along the currents and giving a little tap to one. It lit up like a spiderweb throughout the room, thicker about himself and the girl, around the humming engine, the wires in the walls, and softening to a loose lattice work elsewhere. "Magic is the manipulation of these currents. One can manipulate the body to grow strong or fall ill. One can manipulate the heat and water in the air to create rain or snow. One can bend light into phantasms. Redirect gravity to make an object lighter or heavier. You might even follow a current to where it slips beyond the senses and use it to find paths outside the world you know."

Loki pulled forth the Tesseract once more. It's energy stung his hands and arms like lemon juice on paper cuts but, being prepared for it this time, he was able to keep The Cube's magics in check.

"This artifact does just that. It is a knotwork of currents flowing through the higher dimensions. A junction of roads, if you will, leading to every corner of the cosmos. The flow of energy through it from infinite origins and destinations creates a nigh limitless source of power.

"But, as you have noticed," he said, with a pointed look at her cradled arms, "such power is difficult to control. One cannot simply dip into it as you would a stream. You must siphon from it with the respect you'd show flooded rapids."

The girl was listening, interested, but still nervous. Good.

"Something it would seem you are unprepared for." He sent The Cube away one more time. "Well, then. This was a waste of time."

Loki snapped his fingers and the ceremony mat rolled itself up and disappeared with a 'thwap,' taking the spell components with it. They'd stay suspended in time until he had use for them.

"W-wait!" The girl said, standing into an awkward hunch over her injured hands. "I can try again. I-I just wasn't ready."

"No, you weren't and you aren't," he agreed, starting for the stairs. He heard her following, the tinny sound of her footsteps hurrying behind.

"I can do it. Please, let me try again."

He chanced a glance over his shoulder as they climbed. Her eyes were wide and she was making a concentrated effort to hold her arms by her sides in a casual manner, ignoring the aching they must feel. She was afraid, afraid to be of no use in a ship of Asgard. Good.

"You need practice," he said, stepping from the engine room into the blessedly cool hallway beyond. The bone deep hum of the engine grew fainter as they made their way back to the main cargo bays. "I will give you three days. You will spend those days harnessing the ambient currents, holding them, and redirecting them. Do you think you can manage that?"

"Yes." She said it with a conviction he was sure she didn't feel.

"Good. Hold the energies for as long as you can, then release them slowly. This will hone your control and precision, as well as your stamina." He paused as they came to the loading bay. They could see the faint glow spilling from The Hulk's quarters on the other side of the hull. The girl's Giant mother would be within, as would the doppelganger he'd conjured earlier. Though it was unlikely the older Jötunn would hear, Loki lowered his voice anyway. "Are my instructions clear?"

The girl matched his volume when she answered, though some irritation crept into her voice. "Yes. My Dame has me do similar with Thermoturgy."

"Ah," Loki held up a finger. "An important distinction; this is most definitely not simple Jötunn ice magic. If you approach it the same, by drawing the energy into yourself, you will char your organs from the inside out." He let that image sink in then added, "if you're lucky."

He could tell she wanted to know what would happen if she weren't lucky, but held her tongue. She glared at him with a clenched jaw and furrowed brow.

"Now then, any questions?"

"No."

"Excellent!"

Loki waved his hand and the girl's doppelganger appeared at the hanger's door. A deep voice spoke from inside as Loki and his lacky crossed the bay to meet it. The simulacrum wore a sour expression as it called over it's shoulder, "I just want some air," before it slumped outside the door jam.

The changeling girl stripped off her blue dress (Loki averted his gaze, again. Perhaps their next lesson would be on decency.) then shifted into her Jötunn form and donned the brown and yellow kilt. When she was done, Loki dismissed the doppelganger with a flick of his wrist.

"Right," he said. "Three days. I expect you to be an uncontested master of the art by then."

The Jötunn rolled her eyes but didn't argue.


	6. Chapter 6

It was two days since Prince Loki had tasked zher with practicing zher seiðr and zhe hadn't be able to practice even once. The doppelganger he'd conjured to take Juri's place had been surely and rude, and zher dame had not taken the disrespect well. If they had still been on Jötunheim, zher dame would have assigned zher extra chores and taken away zher wandering privileges. But here, there was little to be done and nowhere to explore, so zher dame had sat Juri facing a corner for five hours. Straight. After that, Brunnhilde had come to visit Hulk and the two of them had insisted Juri and zher dame join them for cards. Then it was dinner and then zher dame had sent Juri to bed. No complaining allowed.

The next day zher dame had insisted they do their exercises. Being sedentary for months at a time would put a person in poor health, and so Oma had developed a routine to combat this. Oma also insisted Juri go through zher katas, correcting zher form and critiquing zher footing.

Some time after noon Juri finally managed to wriggle out of zher dame's attentions, slipping into the main cargo bay. A few Sakaarans were poking about the crates, gathering supplies for the passengers above. They ignored Juri and zhe returned the favor, finding a clear patch of floor hidden behind a wall of steal crates. Zhe settled down cross legged and let zher eyes fall half-closed, reaching out with zher seiðr for the rivers of energy flowing through the hull.

Zhe imagined them to be an ethereal blue, like the color of light filtered through thick ice. In truth, it had no color, just a feeling on the inside of zher heart, but the visualization helped zher focus.

There were less streams here than in the engine room. The inert alloys of the ship held little energy, though the electrical wires threaded through its walls drew a decent current. Some of the boxes in the bay, too, held a little more energy than others. Zhe suspected they contained organic material, or perhaps well used tools.

The cloak pin Juri's Omama had given zher drew more power than did the anklet Juri had purchased for zherself. The sash zher sire had gifted zher drew more energy than did the kilt it held up.

Did thoughts and feelings linger upon the objects zhe held dear?

Juri lifted zher hands to cup the cloak pin, not touching, but reaching for the tingling hum that surrounded. The energy fell over zher palms like feathers, or the light brush of fur. Worg fur.

The smell of hunting beasts reared in the back of zher throat, thick and musky, the distant sound of howling dancing at the edge of zher hearing. Juri gasp, lips drawn into a smile.

Omama.

Juri let the feeling fade, slowly drawing from the pin's memories. Zhe wiped zher eyes, blinking away the small moisture gathering there. Zhe wouldn't use something so precious for practice.

Juri's smile remained as zhe turned zher attention to the ship's streams.

* * *

Juri wasn't sure how long it had been when zhe was roused from zher trance. Zhe blinked, becoming aware of the bright presence to zher right.

Oma stood, leaning against a wall of secured crates, gazing down on Juri with a thoughtful expression.

"Those are Às magics," Oma said, the rumble of zher voice joining the hum of the ship. Juri could almost see the shape of Oma's words as they dispersed in the air, rippling across the energy streams.

Juri shook zher head and zher vision realigned, the streams sinking out of focus.

"I, um," Juri's head felt slow, still realigning to the everyday feeling of the material world.

"Where did you learn it?" Zher dam didn't sound angry. At least, not yet.

What could zhe say? Certainly not the truth. But where else would zhe have seen Às magic?

"I, uh, I saw Brunnhilde doing it. The other day." Juri wasn't sure if Brunnhilde knew any seiðr but it was possible, and that was enough. "She said it's a way to practice and increase your constitution."

"Hm."

"Is that all right?" If it wasn't all right then it would make practicing much more difficult. And Juri had to practice. If zhe didn't, if zhe couldn't be of use to Prince Loki…

Zhe had to get this right.

Zher dame pushed off from the crates and came to sit opposite Juri. The space was cramped with the two of them, their crossed legs only inches apart.

"I will not stop you from pursuing this, though I would encourage caution. The Às way of magic is a dangerous way. They do not work with the flow of things. Instead, they seek to bend the world to their will. But the world is not an inert thing and it does not take kindly to pushy masters. If you are uncareful, you will come to harm."

"I'm being careful. I'm starting small, with little streams." Or, zhe had started with little streams. Zhe'd gotten bored of that quickly.

Oma tilted zher head, a small thing, inviting Juri to demonstrate.

Juri took a deep breath, suddenly nervous. Oma was never very skilled with seiðr outside Thermoturgy, but zhe had grown up under Omama's tutelage. Zhe knew what skilled magic looked like.

Juri reached out, feeling the air beneath zher fingertips, searching for the static feeling of concentrated energies. Finding one, zhe pulled it to zher.

The stream sparked, sending a jolt into zher left hand before snapping away. Juri flinched and glanced at zher dame, but Oma continued to watch with patience.

Juri shook zherself out and tried again, tugging at the stream with renewed purpose. This time zhe kept hold of it, the energies pooling in zher palm. It looked like heat over a fire, the air wavering within zher cupped hands. Juri waited for zher dame's nod of approval before releasing the energy in a controlled flow.

"What do you think?" Juri asked, letting zher hands rest on zher thighs.

"I think you will be very powerful some day. And I wish I had paid more mind to my Oma's teachings. I wish you had a master under whom to study."

Juri nodded, dropping zher gaze.

"We will find you someone," Oma said, prodding Juri's shin with zher own foot until Juri was forced to smile.

"Where will we?" Juri asked, zher smile fading, though not disappearing entirely.

Oma shook zher head. Zhe had no answer.

Juri bit zher lip. This might be pushing zher luck, but, "there are seiðrmasters here."

Zher dame's expression dropped into the blank stare of a soldier.

"I know it's unlikely, but if one of them were to agree…?"

"They would not."

"Can we be sure? Brunnhilde is not unkind. Or if I shifted, they needn't even know I'm not one of them."

"Do not even think such things, child!" The wavering of Oma's voice broke through zher forced calm, anger and fear tugging at the corners of zher eyes. "Do you think yourself so skilled as to fool a seiðrmaster? Are you so arrogant? And when your deception is discovered what do you think their reactions will be? Do you expect congratulations? No, they will label you a liar and a danger. They will use your trespass as an excuse to take your head."

Juri didn't respond. Had that not happened already? Prince Loki had known zher immediately, without so much as a word exchanged. And had Loki not needed zher service, would he have hesitated to strike zher down? Zhe couldn't say. Zhe hoped not, but…

Zher dame must have taken zher silence as obstinacy, for zhe continued. "Would you risk yourself for your pride? Would you risk the life of my only child on such a foolish venture?" Oma's growling rumble deepened as zhe spoke. "Then let me tell you what will happen upon your death. I will find the ones who took you from me and I will steal the life-heat from their blood. I will tear their throats out and crush their skulls and they will kill me in turn. If you leave me I will follow you into the abyss."

Oma's glare drilled into Juri leaving zher feeling sick. Images of zher dame bloody and roaring as the Às overwhelmed zher, falling to the gore-slicked floor as weapons burrowed into zher flesh.

Juri's voice was tight, zher throat closing around the words as zhe stuttered, "I-I won't. I won't leave you. I'm sorry. I-" Zhe choked, wiping at zher burning eyes.

Oma's frame relaxed with a grumbling sigh and zhe reached out to Juri with one large hand. "Here."

Juri crawled into zher Oma's lap. Zhe was getting too big for this, but for now zhe fit well enough. Oma ran zher fingers through Juri's braids, rubbing circles between Juri's shoulders with the other hand.

Oh, what a mess zhe'd wheedled zherself into. Juri had been so excited to explore the Às levels in disguise, had been so eager to watch Prince Loki's magics, and now both Juri and Oma's lives hung on Juri's untested abilities. Zhe'd heard enough vicious whispers amongst the Æsir to know Loki's threats were real. The Æsir did not want them on this ship and they had precious few allies. Juri believed Brunnhilde to be honestly kind, but how much influence did the Às lady wield?

If the Æsir turned on them, there was very little Juri of zher dame could do. Oma's predictions would come to pass, unless Juri remained _useful._

"Why do they hate us so?" Juri whispered into Oma's collarbone.

"Because we do not bow." Oma's breath rumbled across Juri's brow, zher words reverberating through Juri's chest. "The others of the nine, they bend the knee to Asgard's power."

"But we surrendered. Just like the Vanir and the Elves. But Asgard does not hate them."

"Laufey surrendered, that is true. In name, we are vassals of Asgard," and Oma's voice grew hard as zhe said that. "But we do not bow. We do not worship the Æsir as god like the Mortals do. We do not flatter and flutter like the Elves nor call Odin our Father as do the Vanir. Asgard has enacted its laws upon our bodies but they cannot chain our hearts, and so they hate us."

"It's stupid," Juri said. "They aren't even Asgard anymore. They're just refugees without a home. No one will bow to them now."

Oma's hum had a pleased sound to it. "Yes… Though, it is best we are not here when they realize this."

Juri glanced at zher Oma in question.

"The powerful grow vicious when they see their power fade."


	7. Chapter 7

_"Did you hear what happened on the on the upper levels? With the King and his brother?"_

 _"I have heard many tales about those two. Perhaps you could be more specific."_

 _"The king was threatening to string Loki up by his ears. Something about batteries."_

 _"Did he steal them?"_

 _"I'm not sure. I think he angered the Sakaarans about something."_

 _"Well, as long as I'm not caught in the crossfire."_

 _"Do you remember the time Loki lined a ceremonial fire pit with Elvish fireworks? One nearly took out Odin's other eye!"_

 _"I wasn't there for that."_

 _"You would have loved it! I was in the general audience, so I couldn't see much. But suddenly all the nobles were screeching bloody murder! They ran by the rest of us, got their fancy shoes all muddy while the sky danced with fire."_

 _"Was the Prince strung up by the ears then, too?"_

 _"Well, I was hardly privy to the fallout, but I'm sure the King was less than pleased."_

* * *

Loki was tired. Tired, but unable to sleep. The Sakaaran engineers had informed Thor that Loki had yet to deliver the promised fuel cells. Thor, in turn had turned his full attention on Loki who had needed to do some very fancy verbal dancing to get him to leave his room. He needed more time.

He didn't have time.

Shortly after dinner, Loki slipped down to the cargo bay. The Jötunn child wasn't there to greet him and Loki spared a moment to silently curse the brat before working a spell of invisibility. Such magic required a great deal of concentration. Bending the light about himself was not exceptionally difficult, but hiding the warp of it as he moved was. If one wasn't careful, their passing would have the shimmering appearance of a mirage.

He dulled the sound of his footfalls as he entered the Giant's quarters and reached out with his seiðr.

Walking unseen was difficult for another reason. Bending the light about himself meant none could reach his own eyes. Instead, he relied on the flow of seiðr in the room to guide him, the sluggish quiet of steel beneath his feet, the bright hum of electricity in the walls, the burning knotworks of living things both big and small and the free flow of air about it all.

Hulk slouched to his right, a confused tangle of two half-formed beings, like someone had woven two tapestries together with the manic skill of a toddler. The beast slept and, for that, Loki was thankful.

To his left was the deep pool of the older Jötunn. Her threads formed a thick blanket over something heavy beneath. It spoke of discipline, though the weaving was less ordered than that of an Às soldier.

The younger sat near her mother, plucking at the currents of the room. Her threads shifted and billowed as she sent her seiðr out from herself. As Loki approach he let her magic brush against his. Her seiðr retreated with a snap, falling back into her own body as she woke from her trance.

Loki leant beside the girl's ear and whispered, _"it's time."_

He sensed the movement of her head as she nodded.

"Oma, I'm going to practice in the outer bay. Is that all right?"

The older giant hummed in what must have been agreement. The girl stood and Loki followed her out. She stopped when they were out of sight of the others.

 _"Prince Loki?"_ She whispered in entirely the wrong direction. _"Are you here?"_

Loki let the spell drop and smirked as the giant startled.

"I didn't know you could do that." She spoke a little louder now that he was visible. Many people felt the need to whisper when he was unseen. It never failed to amuse him.

"Yes," he said. "And much more. Have you been practicing?"

The giant nodded, bringing her hands up and pulling currents into her cupped palms. He liked the speed with which she did it, though the amount of energy she drew was small.

"Can you hold more than that?"

A flicker of disappointment crossed her face _(aw, she'd hoped for praise)_ but she set her jaw and did as he asked, drawing more and more magic from the air until her brow grew slick with sweat and the air in her hands grew hot.

"Enough."

She breathed a sigh, but kept herself in check as she let the energy go in a measured flow.

Good. He could work with this.

* * *

The ritual mat was set and Loki and the girl were seated in position. She'd changed back to her Às form, the loose fitting blue dress collecting grime from the engine room's oily floor. She was nervous but determined, staring Loki down in what she must have thought was a stoic manner. He'd describe it as more of a pout, but he appreciated the sentiment.

"Ready?" he asked, holding the Tesseract above the rune-scribed mat.

She nodded, stretching her hands out beneath his own.

"Remember, I only need a little at a time. Hold as much back as you can unless I tell you otherwise."

When she nodded again, he released The Cube, letting it fall the few inches to her palms, where it bobbed like an apple on the surface of a pond. The girl gave a little gasp as its energies sought her out, trying to force its way through her magic and flesh, but she screwed up her face and pushed back. She was not entirely successful containing it, arcs of light peeling from the Tesseract and seeping into the room at large, but not so much as to cause any significant damage.

Loki let a small smile of relief cross his face.

"Good. Good." He brought his hands below hers, hovering above the spent fuel cell. "You may begin."

The snap of power was abrupt, like a whiplash against his palms, but he was expecting that. He began to move, pulling and pushing and twisting the currents into the right resonance then feeding it into the cell.

The particular fuel cell Loki was using worked by fusing hydrogen into helium and harnessing the excess energy created in the process. Once all of the available hydrogen had been converted the cell became useless, unable to produce temperatures sufficient to fuse helium. Loki could, conceivably, use the Tesseract to reach the required temperature, however he highly doubted the cell's casing could withstand such heat.

Instead, he would use the Tesseract's power to split the helium atoms back into hydrogen, then restart the initial fusion process.

Loki grit his teeth, plunging his consciousness into the cell, letting his seiðr filter into the smallest places, into those gaps between atoms and then yet further into the empty spaces within the atoms themselves. So small, seemingly insignificant, yet the bonds of these particles contained enough power to level a city.

With the steady stream of the Tesseract's energy giving him the strength he needed, Loki rent the very elements apart.

He came back to himself, panting and sweating. His hands were shaking. He could hear his heart within his ears and feel the heat of his blood beneath his skin. He was heat, and light, and _fire._

A whimper broke through his daze and he looked up to see the girl across from him, her hair slick with sweat and her face flushed with effort. She was seconds from dropping the Tesseract.

Loki snatched The Cube from her hands and banished it. The girl gasped, slumping and letting her arms fall limp by her sides. She looked like she might be ill.

The cell, through... The cell glowed with an azure light, bright enough to leave spotted afterimages behind his lids.

It worked.

It worked!

Loki whooped, surging to his feet, then nearly falling back down as he became lightheaded. He giggled against the floating feeling as his balance slowly settled.

"It worked! It worked, by Bor's blood, it worked!"

The girl rasped something that might have been 'it did?,' though her voice was wispy and strained.

"It did!" He laughed some more, scooping up the cell to analyze it more closely.

Since some of the initial mass had been lost in the fusion process, and yet more now through fission, the cells would not last as long as before. This one was, perhaps, at seventy two percent power. But he could repeat the process more than once and he had plenty of cells on which to do it. They would make it to Midgard after all.

Perhaps he could find a way to add mass to the cells, perhaps even improve on the initial design. Could he synthesize hydrogen from the Tesseract's energies? Or maybe draw it from somewhere through The Cube, teleport the element directly into the cell's reserves? He'd have to think on it.

The girl was giggling now, too, swaying slightly and eyes lidded. It was clear she wouldn't be able to charge another cell this night (If he were being honest, Loki wasn't in any shape to continue, either), but he was too relieved to care.

It worked. The process was proven. The pressure to get things right was lifted. He needn't do it all tonight, they could continue this later.

"Come," he said, "That is enough for tonight." The ritual mat was sparking with the Tesseract's excess energy. With a flick of his wrist he sent it back to his dimensional pocket. He could rinse out the residual energy another day.

The girl looked relieved but nearly toppled over as she stood. Loki reached out on instinct, steadying her by the elbow.

"M'fine…" She said, though this was followed by staring blankly into space.

"Perhaps a quick rest before we get you back, hm?"

She grunted with a nod and Loki lead her to the wall, helping her to slide back to the floor. It wasn't surprising, her exhaustion. Frankly, she probably should have died, with as little training as she possessed. Loki sent the recharged fusion cell into dimensional storage as well, he would present it to Thor later, and joined the girl on the floor.

The girl, what was her name again?

"Jora?" She didn't respond. "Jorthis."

She blinked at him, mouth slightly ajar with fatigue.

"Jorthis?"

"Are you asking me my name?"

Loki chuckled. "I take it I got it wrong."

"Juri."

"Mm, right. Here," he plucked a nutrient bar from his dimensional pocket and gave her half, taking the rest for himself. "Eat. It'll help."

They sat in silence for a time, making their ways slowly through the candy bars. If Thor knew Loki kept this little store of rations he'd be quite cross, which is why Loki hadn't included them in the initial supply count. As far as the kitchens knew, they'd never existed.

The girl, Juri, chewed listlessly by his side. "How many more do we need to do?"

"Quite a lot."

She nodded, biting her remaining bar in half. "So, you'll have need of me for quite a while."

Her words had a caustic edge to them and he might have taken offense were he in a poorer mood. Instead he chuckled.

"Yes. I will."

She very pointedly kept her eyes locked on the floor as she bit what was left of the candybar in half again. Well, someone grew testy when tired.

"You did well," Loki said. That got him a quick, questioning look. "Always room for improvement, of course." Back to staring at the floor. "But not bad. Especially considering your training. Or lack thereof."

"I've trained."

"Yes, yes, in ice magic-"

"Yes, in ice magic! And other magics. My Omama was shapefluid and she could predict the weather and the hunt."

Loki scoffed.

"She could!"

"I've no doubt. Paltry farm magic."

"Zhe once repopulated a barren forest with just four hreindyr. Two thousand and twenty eight beasts in just one season with her 'paltry farm magic.'"

Loki tilted his head in acknowledgement. Increasing an animal's birth rate so drastically would require some small skill.

"She's dead then? Your 'Omama?'" The girl spoke of her grandmother in the past tense.

"Yes." Juri's churlish mood evaperated. "Zhe was old even when I was young. A gar-beast was raiding one of the nearby camps. Zhe went to their aid in zher worg-form. Alone." She pursed her lips, rolling the melting chunk of nutribar between her fingers.

What was with this 'zhe' nonsense? Did the child have a speech impediment?

Juri shook her head, changing subjects. "You, uhm, you learned magic on Asgard."

"Was that a question?"

She shrugged.

He answered anyway. "Yes. At first. I then studied in Alfheim at the University of Vithblainn under Master Dainn himself." The girl showed no recognition at the name. Loki sighed and explained, "he is an exceptional seiðrmaster."

"Is that where you learned to conjure illusions?"

A fair guess, if incorrect. The elves were renowned for their illusions and lightcraft.

"No, though I expanded my skills there. My…" Loki hesitated over his wording. He'd denied Frigg in life, in his last words to her. He would not dishonor her in death. "My mother taught me, The Queen. She was exceptional. A match for Odin himself."

"How do they work?"

"Hm?" He raised a brow.

"The doppelgangers. How do they work? I've tried conjuring a few things. Little ones. But I have to concentrate just to make them walk and I've no idea how to make them say anything. But yours walk and talk and think and you don't even have to be there to make them! How?"

"Ah, just a bit of preparation."

Juri waited for him to expand on that, her fatigue fading some in interest.

"You truly want me to go into the details of simulacrum synthesis?" Despite himself, Loki felt that little spark of excitement he got when discussing the craft, something he hadn't felt in… decades. Very few in Asgard appreciated the more complicated applications of seiðr and as his duties as prince had grown he'd had less and less time to visit Alfheim for scholarly pursuits.

He supposed the last time he'd even approached such a topic was with Valkyrie when she'd caught him practicing Ice Magic, and that had been more a volley of insults than a discussion.

Juri pursed her lips and challenged him with, "well, if you're not too tired..."

"Hah. Very well." Loki thought a moment, then conjured a miniature version of Thor. The little doppelganger stood in the center of Loki's palm, unmoving. "Creating the simile is the first step, of course, something you've already done. But at this point it is nothing more than a puppet, dancing to your thoughts."

He bid the puppet to dance a halting jig, something ungainly and ridiculous. It was meant to make the girl laugh, but she watched the doll move with a studied intensity as if she could figure out the how by mere observation. Loki was a bit disappointed, but didn't let on as he continued.

"At this stage you are giving the simulacrum instructions for each footstep, each wave of the arm, for each bouncing curl of hair. It's exhausting. And as soon as you lose focus it will fall lifeless once more." He let the puppet go still again.

"So, you build a library of routines from which to draw. A walk, for example." Little Thor began to walk in place, his feet sliding soundlessly across Loki's palm. "Or a run." Thor began to run, arms pumping and nostrils flaring with breath. "I spent a good deal of time perfecting these. Thor is a brute of a man and he carries his arrogance like a mantel. I couldn't use the walk of your average peasant or noble for his movements, they needed to be tailored to his personality and build. Otherwise..."

The little Thor began to skip with the dainty grace of a child. This got a quick huff of amusement from the girl.

"How do you build a library? You aren't actually writing anything down, are you?"

"No, no. Once you've got something you like you… hm, imprint it into the universe. You build a storage of thoughts in the consciousness of reality from which you are then able to draw. It is, likewise, how you would cut down the time to cast a complicated spell of summoning or healing. Once you've gone through the motions of a spell in its entirety, you may set reality itself the task of doing the grunt work in future. You must have done something similar yourself, surely. Do you find your shifting easier the second time you take on a new form? Or do you struggle with every session?"

"No, it gets easier. But that's because I know what it feels like the second time."

"Yes, but it's more than that. _Reality_ knows what it feels like the second time, and so it does not fight you when you shift. And if you let it, it can even help you along."

The girl studied her tan hands with wonder, then broke her gaze to ask another question. "But what about talking? I can't get mine to talk. And how do you make them know what to say and when to say it? Or even when they should walk as opposed to run?"

"Noise is simple. It's a different spell, though, acting on air instead of light. So making a talking simulacrum requires at least two seiðr-workings. There are other workings you need as well if you wish for your simulacrum to _process_ sound and sight. With those in place, you now need to build a latticework of responses and routines for it to follow."

Loki closed his fist, the little Thor popping in a flash of green. He then twisted his hand with a flick, conjuring a simulacrum he hadn't used in many years. It was a bit fuzzy about the edges, but with a little concentration the form came into focus. It stood with its weight on one foot and its hands folded behind its back, a slight smirk upon its face.

"Who is that?" The girl asked.

"That's me, when I was bit younger than you. It's one of the first simulacrums I made. I used it to trick my brother into thinking I was in my room or watching at the practice grounds when in fact I had wandered off to do one thing or another. Go ahead, ask it something."

"Uhm," the girl sat up straighter as she addressed the illusion. "Hello."

"Hello," it replied, shifting its weight to the other leg.

"I'm Juri. What's your name?"

"I'm Loki. Who else would I be?"

The girl laughed, glancing back at the real Loki.

"Try asking it something harder," Loki suggested. "Something unexpected or silly."

"Hmm. What is it like to fly?"

The simulacrum frowned. "I really don't have time for this."

Juri looked to Loki again, but he gestured her to try another.

"How many years are in a day?"

"Haven't you somewhere to be?"

"Why are mushrooms so mean?"

"I really don't have time for this."

The girl hummed, then asked again, "what is your name?"

"I'm Loki. Who else would I be?" The simulacrum shifted its weight, a slight smirk upon its face.

"So it deflects your question if it doesn't have a response tailored to what you asked," she guessed.

"Yes," Loki agreed. "Thor eventually figured that out and took to asking me ridiculous things to test whether I was me or an illusion. I took to answering his nonsense as if I _were_ my doppelganger and so he took to throwing things at my head. I got rather good at dodging after that." He smiled at the memory. "As time went on, I built more complex response systems. I can also pilot them from a distance, if I so choose."

"That's… so much work."

"Indeed!" Loki banished his child-self. "Proper seiðrwork requires a great deal of preparation. You can't run into a situation and simply flail about in the hopes that things will resolve themselves." _Thor's preferred method of problem solving._ "You must build your tools for later use. And if you haven't the right tool for the job, things get… interesting."

"Interesting how?"

"Well…" Loki thought back to one of his adventures in Nidafellr. "There was a time I had to chase off a group of Dwarves. I sent the simulacrum of great bear after them with the instruction to chase them anywhere they may run. It turned out they had a boat, however. Now, I had prepared instructions on how the simulacrum should interact with water in the case of a puddle or a stream. It should wade through it. But I'd never bothered to create a swimming routine."

"So, what happened?"

Loki chuckled. "It waded into the water! Disappeared under the surface entirely. The Dwarves were confused but thought themselves safe. That is, until the bear climbed up one of their oars and into their boat! They jumped into the pond screaming but quickly realized something was off when the bear slipped under the water again and started roaring at them from the lake bed."

The girl laughed. "What? Just standing in the mud staring up at them?"

"Swatting at their pumping feet!"

She laughed again but it turned into a yawn midway through.

Loki hummed. "It is getting rather late, isn't it? Do you think you can stand?"

She nodded, rising to her feet with the help of the wall. They made their way back to the girl's quarters at a leisurely pace, Loki answering her questions on the specifics of simulacrum synthesis. They paused for some time just outside the bay's doors, Juri still too full of questions even as her words slurred with exhaustion, Loki enjoying the talk despite his better judgment. But eventually he called a halt to the conversation. She'd need to rest if she planned to be of any use tomorrow.

"But what about vocal resonance in different mediums? How do you account for thin air or if the simulacrum is underwater?"

"Tomorrow. For now, bed."

"All right. Fine." She bent to grab the hem of her dress, ready to disrobe and change back, but paused. "Will you really answer tomorrow? You're not just trying to shut me up?"

"If I wanted you to stop talking I'd have no qualms commanding you to do so."

Her face twisted in irritation at his tone, but she didn't act on it. Instead, she thought through his words, her expression turning to cautious hope. "So you will answer tomorrow?"

"That's what I said, isn't it?" He smirked as she wavered between indignation and relief. "Now go to sleep."

"All right," she sighed. Loki turned to leave as she began to undress, just catching her light, "good night, Prince Loki."


	8. Chapter 8

It had been another successful night. The girl was getting better and better at controlling the flow of the Tesseract and Loki himself was getting quicker at instigating the cell fission. If all went well, he might try upping their nightly quota to two cells per session.

She was more talented than he had expected.

 _(And not entirely unbearable.)_

As his bedroom door slid shut, Loki stretched his arms behind his back, fingers interlocked. His spine gave a satisfying crack as the fey lights woke slowly above his head. It was late, the corridors to his quarters had been all but empty, only the little lights along the baseboards illuminating the way.

He stripped to his britches and let his form change, stretching and growing cold. Something inside him relaxed as he did so, like a sigh, and he found himself slumping with relief. It was so frustrating, this constant tension within his flesh, within his core, that now came from maintaining his Ás form. He knew, in time, he'd be able to stay shifted near indefinitely. But that wasn't helpful now. Though… though, if he were honest with himself…

 _If he were honest, his skin had always been too tight._

Loki gathered up his garments, hanging them in the slim closet built into the wall. His reflection flashed from the mirror upon the inner door, blue like a late dusk sky, ridged like valley rivers seen from a mountain overlook. He sighed and let his gaze flick up.

Red, like blood.

Or…

Or, perhaps, like garnet.

 _Had Frigg ever seen him like this? What words would she have used?_

Alexandrite. She'd always said his eyes were like that of alexandrite.

Hah. Fitting.

How would the Jötnar describe him?

 _Short._

Of course. But otherwise? He was a handsome man, he knew. He'd used his looks to his advantage as much as he did his words and charm.

But as a Jötunn?

What did they hold to be desirable?

 _Scarred and shaped like a brick, most likely._

 _Maybe._

He closed the closet, padding over to his bedding, the fey lights swirling about his horns as he walked.

The girl wasn't ugly. Not pretty, certainly, and as a woman she was decidedly lacking in feminine qualities. But if she were male, then she would be well on her way to becoming a handsome young man. The mother could be handsome, too, in a grizzled, war veteran sort of way.

Was that it? The Jötnar simply prided flat chests and squared jaws so highly that even their women became such?

 _(It could explain some of his… proclivities.)_

Loki slid to the ground with a groan, laying back, head resting on his right arm as he watched the fey lights drift along the ceiling. He raised his left hand towards the lights and studied the way they played across his skin. The yellowed glow rimmed the blue of his fingers like the dawn sun pushing against the night sky.

Were there others like him? Small and wily? Perhaps it was a trait of seiðrmasters, perhaps Juri would also stay shorter than her brethren.

No, she was young and already taller than Loki himself.

So not short, but she was wily, and smart. And from the sounds of it, her grandmother was too. And from the sounds of it, her grandmother was the last seiðrmaster she'd had any significant contact with. All alone in a world of warmongers.

Even on Asgard Loki had never been the only one, had always had his mother to speak with, to practice with. Had always had the ladies of the court, even if their interests only lay with cosmetology and love potions. It had been something.

What did Juri have? A gruff, ice-obsessed mother.

How lonely.

He let his hand drop, closed his eyes.

Neither he nor Juri should have been born of that realm. And if there were two such as them, then surely there were others, others who deserved to be uplifted. Perhaps when he got to Midgard…

Well, that was a ways off.

* * *

 _"Hilda had another nightmare last night."_

 _"About the Giants?"_

 _"Yes. I don't know what to do. She's terrified they'll crawl out of the vents and gobble her up as she sleeps."_

 _"Haha! I hardly think they'd fit!"_

 _"Yes, I've told her as much. But Bartlet told her that story about Thjazi turning into a bird. She's convinced they'll shift to the form of a snake and creep throughout the ship."_

 _"Tell her the Jötunn seiðrmasters were all killed in the war."_

 _"I have, but I'll try again. I do not think it will help."_

* * *

The meeting was coming to an end and Loki hadn't spoken once throughout. Thor had been side-eying him for the last half hour, waiting for Loki to speak on his own, but he was far too busy filing his nails to take notice.

Finally Thor broke.

"Loki, have you any news on our missing fuel?"

"Oh, hm?" Loki blinked, glancing up from his buffed nails, keeping his good humor hidden behind practiced disinterest.

"The fuel cells, Loki. Have you found them."

"Oh! Yes." He returned to his filing.

"... And where might they be?"

"Hm? Oh, would you like them now?"

Thor sighed, exhaustion and exasperation drawing his face after a long day running about the ship. But Thor knew the fastest way to get this done was to play along, as much as the game vexed him. "Yes, I would like them now."

"Well, why didn't you say so?"

By the tensing of Thor's jaw, Loki suspected his look of honest perplexity was moments away from earning him a fist to the face, but the sorcerer waved a perfectly manicured hand and, with a small flash, several cells appeared on the conference table. Their blue glow brightened the room, overtaking the dull overheads. In addition to recharging them, Loki had enacted a small spell of transchronofication to change the cell's labels to a false brand: Ignoriant Super Cells.

He caught sight of Valkyrie out of the corner of his eye. She looked amused by his antics, but it was subtle. Neither of them had spoken more than a few words to the other since their little spat nearly four weeks back.

"Is that all?" Lulu asked, stealing away Thor's pleased look. "That'll hardly last us a week."

Loki sighed, pouring all of his irritation into a truly fantastic eye roll. "No, that isn't _all._ But the cells require activation. It's a tiresome process, though I've been developing a method to activate them with more efficiency. Regardless, you'll be getting them faster than we use them, so don't get your knickers in a bunch."

Juri had been getting a better hold of the Tesseract's power and, as of two nights ago, they'd managed to increase their production to two cells per session. Loki suspected she'd be able to handle three soon.

The Sakaaran snapped her jaws, gills flaring. She was growing to dislike Loki with an increasingly personal passion, but if she didn't wish for a tongue lashing then she should learn to keep her toothy little mouth shut.

"Brother, be nice," Thor admonished, but he did so with no heat. "And you've done well. When can we expect more?"

Loki let himself preen a little as he answered. "I'll have another batch ready for our next meeting."

"Excellent! Good work, Loki. Now," Thor clapped his hands as he rose, "if that is all..."

"One more thing, your highness," Kvathi spoke, flicking through files on his tablet. "I've a number of citizens who express concern about the Frost Giants in our hold."

Thor, so bright and excited to leave just moments before, sank back into his seat with a barely repressed groan.

"We've been over this Kvathi. Until the Jötnar give us reason, we will not disturb them."

"I understand, but their very presence is disturbing the peace. I've a list of six hundred and fifty eight men and women who have lodged complaint against them. That's nearly a quarter of the ship's population."

"If you only count Asgardians," Lulu muttered. Kvathi pointedly ignored her.

"A quarter of the populace is uncomfortable having the Jötnar so near. I think it unwise to ignore their fears."

Valkyrie spoke up from across the table, "if you need someone to field complaints, I'd be happy to lend a hand." She raised a fist, shaking it threateningly.

"You can't punch your way out of civil unrest," Kvathi harrumphed, shuffling in his seat.

"You sure? 'Cause I'd be happy to try."

"Come now, Brunnhilde," Loki raised his hand in a plea for calm. Valkyrie sent him a glare. "Our good friend here is right. The citizens are afraid. Violence will hardly allay them of their fears."

If this had been a week ago, Loki would have thrown his lot in with the petty noble. But things had changed, the Jötunn girl was instrumental to Loki's plans and he wasn't about to lose such a useful tool.

 _(And if he occasionally enjoyed her enthusiasm for the craft, well, he wasn't above admitting it. To himself, at least.)_

"And what would you suggest?" Thor held himself with all the energy of wet bread, slumping against a fist.

"I'll speak to our people. Tonight, over dinner."

"You will?" Thor's spark of hope was brief. "You aren't planning a lynch mob, are you?"

"I'm hurt, Thor, truly." He made no attempt to appear honest as he said that. They both knew Loki was plenty happy to start riots when the mood struck. "No, it would do none of us good to bring bloodshed to our halls. Trust me, I'll handle it."

* * *

Loki lead the meal hall in a series of merry drinking songs throughout dinner, drumming up enough good cheer that the people nearly forgot their beer was mostly water. By the time dinner was coming to a close the hall was loud with laughter, wrestling, and good natured jeers.

Loki made his way to the head of the room, climbing atop the raised platform Thor sometimes used for announcements. He lifted his hands and waited as the people took notice, shushing their companions into silence. Thor watched from the sidelines, apprehension in the tightness of his shoulders. Loki sent him a little wave.

"My friends!" Loki's voice carried through the hall, bright and lively. "How are we on this fine evening?"

The crowd cheered, raising mugs to the ceiling.

"I'm glad to hear it! And I hope the following doesn't damper the mood too greatly, but it has been brought to my attention that some have a few complaints about our downstairs neighbors. The Jötnar," grumbling filled the hall and Loki waited a beat for it to calm, "are making some of you… uncomfortable. An understandable reaction, to be sure. Frost Giants are dangerous, unpredictable, and untrustworthy. And I should know." Loki placed a hand upon his chest, flashing a guilty little self deprecating smirk. The audience chuckled, well versed in Loki's mischief.

"But our King has made his ruling, offering our hospitality to these," Loki pretended to search for a polite word, " _exotic_ guests. And Asgard is as good as her word. We can hardly ask for honor from our guests that we ourselves are unwilling to give."

The crowd didn't look happy at this. It was the same argument Thor had made some weeks back, and it would work for a time. Honor was the currency of Asgard, no one would move to tarnish that golden facade. No, they needed to wait for a convenient excuse to blame the other party before breaking any promises. _(Loki's ability to trick others into breaking a pact was one of the reasons so many nobles despised him, and why the country folk who heard of his exploits against the stuffed shirts adored him.)_

Loki had been drumming up the citizens' desire for retribution since the Jötnar were promised safe passage, knowing that when the opportunity presented itself he'd be loaded as a hero, enacting revenge for some petty slight. This tension could still be useful to keep the Jötnar in line, but it was now important to keep it from getting out of hand. He'd be truly screwed if some thick-skulled want-to-be hero decided to go monster slaying in the cargo bays.

"Now, I know such plays on your honor do little to lessen your concern for your wives and children. I do not pretend that these beings are not dangerous. But I ask you to trust in your King that they are well contained." A lie. But the youth wouldn't be eating any babies even if she did decide to go for another stroll in the upper decks. "The Jötnar may be savages, but they are not without reason. They know full well that any move against us will mean their heads and, like any animal, their chief instinct _is_ the preservation of their own lives. And I tell you this with confidence, having had the… hm, _pleasure_ of speaking with them, they are far more afraid of us than we are of them."

Some of the younger members of the audience seemed unsure of this.

"It's true! They know the might of Asgard. They know the ferocity of our warriors. "

 _Play on their pride._

"The strength of our King."

 _Play on their loyalty._

"The unity of our people."

 _Our people. Yours and mine._

"Even a bear doesn't hunt a wolf pack."

An old, grizzled man spoke up, scars from battles past pulling at the corners of his lips. "This would be more assuring were it not coming from the mouth of a Jötunn himself."

Thor barked from the sidelines, "watch your tongue!" but Loki waved his brother's ire aside. He'd been expecting this.

"No, no. I understand your concerns. Ulof, isn't it?"

The old man growled confirmation.

"I _am_ Jötunn by birth, it is true. And though I have worked my whole life to overcome my origins, it is something I cannot change." He paused here, a look of barely contained sorrow for the romantics in the audience. _(And if that expression was easier to conjure than others, he'd never say.)_ "But in this my blood is a boon. The Jötnar below have an innate distrust of Asgard. But they trust me easily enough, and will do as I ask for the love of something they call a 'blood bond.'" Loki rolled his eyes at the term he'd just coined, gaining some huffs of laughter from those eager to look down on the Jötnar's ignorant traditions.

"I daresay, they seem to view me as some sort of savior." _Show them you are instrumental._ "They've been rather eager to get into my good graces, in fact. The younger one in particular has become quite taken with me, in just the few times we've met. Pesters me with all sorts of questions about Asgard's magics and _strange_ customs. Customs like footwear."

More laughter.

"It's sad, in truth. The poor thing was raised in a barren wasteland. Such a hard life leaves little time to learn civility. Honestly, I think the two of them are loath to cause trouble if for no other reason than the cargo bays are the cushiest living quarters they've ever inhabited."

Now, some of the more kind hearted were whispering words of pity. Loki figured this was a good place to wrap it up.

"Well, I believe I've interrupted your evening long enough. And I hope my words have lessened some of your more pressing concerns. If not, I'm sure Valkyrie Brunnhilde would be happy to assist."

She _had_ offered, after all.

Loki quickly slipped out of the meal hall, leaving the crowd to chew through his words in his absence. Thor followed him out, the stiffness of his posture loosened now that no riot loomed on the horizon.

"Thank you," Thor said, the corridors' warm light lessening the bruised bags beneath his good eye. "Though I wonder at some of your claims."

"And which would those be?"

"Your friendship with the Jötnar. I seem to recall your bloodthirst was quite strong but last week."

"I _am_ a fickle thing, you know."

"That you are." Thor shook his head with a found smile.

"What the fuck was that?" Valkyrie announced her presence with her usual grace.

"A pleasure as always, Val," Loki greeted her with a grin.

"Ya-huh. You spent that whole little speech of yours painting them like they're slobbering animals you've trained to eat from your hand."

"A more-or-less accurate description."

"What is wrong with you?! Their _your_ people!"

Loki hissed. "They're _not_ my people."

"Are you hearing this?" Valkyrie turned to Thor, waving a hand at Loki's glower.

Thor crossed his arms. "Loki may be Jötunn by blood, but he is Às in mind and deed."

"Yeah, that's the bloody problem!"

"Have care how you speak," Thor growled. "He is my brother and your prince."

"Are you- ugh!" She threw up her hands. "Is getting your heads caught in your asses a family trait? This attitude is exactly the reason every one of Asgard's allies have turned on us now that you don't have the firepower to backup your hegemony. Are you going to pull this bullshit when we land on Midgard? How long before the mortals get fed up with your golden ass and tell you to fuck off back to space? Hm?"

"We defended Midgard from Jötunn invasion. I doubt they'd take umbrage with a few crass words against their ancient enemies."

"I'm not just talking about the Jötnar!" Valkyrie shouted. "I'm talking about Asgard treating everyone like pawns! I'm talking about your family looking down your noses at everyone like they belong beneath your boot! I left Asgard because I was tired of singing the praises of Odin as he stepped on my neck. You don't have an army to force your will on the realms anymore. You don't get to _demand_ respect anymore. And if you don't stop wanking over your own glory then I'll be the first to join the inevitable rebellion." She spat on the floor, "you cunts," and stormed off.

The brothers watched her go.

"Well," Loki said. "That was dramatic."

* * *

Brunnhilde kicked the door open (which required positioning herself in the ajar doorway and kicking the sliding door edge-on) and stormed into the bay. Hulk slowly rolled to a sitting position on his trash-pile bed, stretching a meaty arm above his head with a tired groan.

"Val mad."

"Yeah, I'm mad!"

"Why mad?"

"Because the two idiots running this ship are fucking idiots!"

Muthrun sighed from her corner, flipping through a Sakaaran fashion catalogue. The magazine was too small for the Giant to hold comfortably, and Muthrun had complained about the contents on more than one occasion, but there was very little to do in the bowels of the ship.

"What did they do?" Juri asked. She was weaving plastic package wrapping into complicated bracelets. Tomorrow she'd unwrap them and do it again.

"Just the same old 'Asgard is great and everyone else is garbage' bullshit."

"Are you not of Asgard?" Muthrun asked, daintily turning a glossy page.

"Yeah, was. 'Till I got tired of all that gold gilded shit!" She kicked an iron pipe, one Hulk used as a backscratch, sending it clattering across the hold's floor.

"Shit," Hulk chuckled.

Brunnhilde threw herself onto Hulk's trash pile. "It's just the same old crap spewing out of new mouths. They run around the realms tooting their own horns and paving the way with the blood of idiots stupid enough to throw their lives away for the King's ego."

"Wait, what's happened?" Juri asked. The slight crease in her brow was the Jötunn equivalent of wide-eyed panic. "Are you going to war?"

"No, I just-" Brunnhilde sat up, scrubbing at her eyes. "I was hoping things would be different. I thought maybe Thor had learned something after Hela came back and royally screwed over Asgard. I thought maybe that'd teach him Asgard's not so high and mighty. And Loki! Fuck! He's just an ouroboros of stupid."

"Hm." The low grunt was Muthrun's way of agreeing with Brunnhilde's words without directly saying so. Though Brunnhilde had done her best to show the older Jötunn she was an ally, she still refused to speak with any candor in Brunnhilde's presence.

"He's not stupid," Juri said. When the room raised a collective brow, she elaborated. "Well, from what you've told us, he's a master of seiðr. You can't be stupid and do all the things you've said he's done."

"There's different kinds of stupid," Brunnhilde said. She tore a chunk of cardboard out of Hulk's bed, setting about to shredding it piece by piece. "I ever tell you about the first time I saw him as a Jötunn? He didn't even know how to make ice armor. The guy nearly gave himself heatstroke trying to show off. That was, like, two months ago."

"He didn't-?" Juri snorted. "Really? How could he not know?"

Brunnhilde shook her head with a laugh, but then gave the question some consideration. "You know he's adopted, right? Raised by Odin? Apparently no one _told_ him he was adopted. Only found out by accident."

"How could he not know he was adopted?" Juri seemed to be considering the possibility that Loki was, indeed, stupid.

"Something Odin did to his magic," Brunnhilde said. "It kept him permanently shifted into Às form."

Muthrun made a choking noise, nearly tearing the magazine in two. "That is disgus-" she cut herself off before she could insult Asgard's former king. But Brunnhilde had no such reservations.

"Real shitty. Yeah."

"Wouldn't that hurt? Being stuck in a foreign form for centuries?" Juri asked.

Brunnhilde shrugged. He'd never mentioned any pain, not until he'd finally shifted back and the years caught up with him.

"That's… All of that's just so awful. I couldn't imagine never knowing my dame." Juri looked to her mother, lips tugging into a frown. "Or being forced into another form. It's no wonder he's…" she trailed off, noticing her mother's warning look.

Brunnhilde again took up the task of insulting the royal family. "Completely mental? Yeah, I guess. To be fair, Odin managed to screw up his Às kids, too."

"Still…"

"Look, I wouldn't feel too bad for him. He just gave a speech that boiled down to: 'don't be afraid of the Jötnar in the hold, they're too stupid to be a threat."

Muthrun's magazine crackled as it froze over.

"I… sorry." Brunnhilde said. "I shouldn't have come down here to rant at you guys. That's not fair."

"No," Muthrun rumbled, placing her ruined magazine on a crate beside her. "It is good to know where we stand."


End file.
